Mass Effect 2: The Best of the Best
by McFreeky
Summary: The continued story of Troy Shepard, Savior of the Citadel, through the lense of those that follow him.
1. Joker

**Joker**

Jeff felt the subtle shift as the _Normandy_ dropped out of FTL and back into normal space. He quickly reengaged the stealth systems to keep any hostile forces that may be in the area from discovering their presence. After he determined that there were no immediate threats, he started to scan the system.

The initial results displayed the medium-sized planet they were starting to orbit. While within the limits of the survivable zone, it was impossibly cold and almost void of life. The display indicated that previous exploration found trace microbial life hidden within the ice sheets, but nothing of substantial value existed there.

The more extensive scan of the entire system gave much of the same results. There was absolutely no activity.

He sighed. "Negative for geth signatures."

Joker heard Navigator Pressly start to pace behind.

"We've been up and down this sector," he said, "and we haven't found a single sign of the geth. After six months, all we found were a few pockets. And those were all in the first month! The Council is wasting our time."

Joker nodded. "They're scared. Can you blame them? They can do something about the geth. The Reapers are a bigger problem. Still, the commander should ask about-"

"A ship just dropped out of FTL," Serviceman Addison Chase interrupted. After a moment, she added, "It is set on an intercept course."

"Impossible," Pressly scoffed. "The stealth systems are engaged. There is no way the geth-"

Joker was studying the display the passive scans formed. The ship in question looked nothing like anything he had ever seen before. It was enormous and with bulbous, organic growths on the stern. One thing was definite.

"It's not the geth." Joker flipped on the ship-wide comms. "Prepare for evasive maneuvers!"

The _Normandy_ started to dance in front of its large pursuer. Joker bobbed and weaved, trying to keep his baby out of any potential firing lines. Unfortunately, the gravity well from the planet below limited his options. When alarms blared about the enemy ship's energy spike, he knew he couldn't completely avoid the coming attack.

"Brace for-" he started. The impact interrupted him.

The entire ship buckled under the force. The console flashed warnings about damages that spread through the entire ship like an infection. Joker heard an explosion and a scream behind him as the console Chase was manning blew. Then there was a second yell that belonged to Pressly as another console blew.

Joker couldn't take any time to check to see if either of his neighbors was still living. He had to work furiously just to keep up with the influx of new damage alerts. The _Normandy_ shuddered again as it was struck with a glancing blow from the destructive weapon.

He turned to his co-pilot and yelled, "Check those two!" Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a blaze. "And someone put that fire out!" he said as he turned back to try to save his ship.

She was in a bad way if the readouts could be trusted. The emission sinks were overloaded and venting into space; the fuel cells were rupture and spilling hydrogen; and the drive core was taxed and about to fail. The _Normandy_ wasn't going to last much longer. Joker knew what he had to do.

He flipped on the ship-wide comms again. "Prepare to abandon ship. Everyone to the escape pods."

"Joker?" his co-pilot said questioningly.

He never faced him. "Go on. I'll buy everyone more time to get off the ship. I'll take the cockpit escape pod once everyone is away."

He heard him running to the nearest escape pod, and he was left alone. His fingers danced, doing everything in his power to give the crew more time. He sealed bulkheads to empty rooms just in case of depressurization. He steadied the _Normandy_ as best he could with the escape pods pointing to the planet's surface. And he did all this while attempting to avoid more fire.

He knew he wasn't always everything he proclaimed to be, but he would never let anyone claim that Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau wasn't the best damn pilot in the Alliance.

Alarms blared that the ship's hull was losing its integrity. Joker swore and activated the kinetic barriers to prevent anyone being caught in the vacuum. He then reached down and grabbed his atmospheric mask in the unlikely case that the cockpit lost its breathable oxygen while keeping its pressure. If all pressure was lost… well, there wasn't much hope for him if that happened.

The _Normandy_ rocketed to the side, and Joker's console showed that one of the propulsion engines had separated from the rest of ship. It made his job all the more difficult, but he wasn't willing to give up. The crew was relying on him.

The alert that Joker was waiting for finally showed on his screen. All escape pods had been jettisoned besides the one just off the cockpit. It was time for him to follow suit.

Yet, when he tried to stand, he found that he didn't want to. The _Normandy_ was his ship. He couldn't just abandon her in her time of need. No, there must be something he could do, something that could save the boat he called home.

A blue shimmer caught Joker's eye. He looked out the viewport to see the planet below, and an idea struck him. Their pursuer's ship was the size of a dreadnaught, much too large to enter the atmosphere of any planet without burning up. The _Normandy_, she was a frigate. She could maneuver onto the planet surface and hide until help arrives. Yes, he could do this. There was still time.

Just as he was about to start his work, Joker felt someone's hand on his chair. The surprise of not being alone on the injured ship quickly died when he heard his commander's voice. _Of course he would still be here_, he thought.

"Come on, Joker! We have to get out of here!"

He didn't look at him, choosing to work. "No!" Joker yelled over the din. "I won't abandon the _Normandy_. I can still save her! I'll escape to the planet-"

"The _Normandy _is lost," Commander Shepard said not unkindly. "Going down with the ship won't change that."

Joker didn't want to believe it to be true, but he knew that Shepard was right. A quick glance over the status made him realize that she would never survive reentry. The _Normandy_ was done.

His head drooped. "Yeah, you're right," he said reluctantly. "Help me up."

Before Joker could even move, warning bells signaled as the few remaining sensors picked up another energy spike from the attacking ship.

"They're coming around for another attack!" the pilot yelled.

The beam must have been close to the cockpit because the entire room shook with renewed vigor. Joker worked feverishly, trying to move the remains of his battered charge into a position that wouldn't kill them when they left the _Normandy_ in the pod.

He just finished his adjustments when Shepard roughly grabbed his forearm. He felt the bones strain under the harsh pressure.

"Agh! Watch the arm!" Joker yelled.

The commander didn't respond, using his energy to lift him instead. Joker got a glimpse of the CIC as they headed to the escape pod. There was a gaping hole in its ceiling, once bolted chairs floated in the vacuum, sparks flew from exposed wires, and the galaxy map platform was crushed. The planet below bathed the room in an eerie blue glow. Shepard was right; the _Normandy_ truly was lost.

Joker struggled to get into the pod with the violent vibrations coursing through the ship. Without Shepard, he doubted he would have made it without breaking all the bones in his legs. As he strapped himself in, another beam drew the commander's attention. Joker felt the strained metal finally lose its battle, and the cockpit separated from the rest of the ship. The commander was thrown from the pod and was barely able to keep from being tossed out into space by latching onto the wall. More angry fire split the two men apart.

Somehow, through all the debris, Joker saw Shepard's eyes clearly for a brief second. They crinkled peacefully in what he could only assume was a smile.

"Commander!" Joker called. He knew that smile meant something horrible.

Shepard's fingers fought for purchase on the wall. Just before he lost his grip, he hit the external launch button for Joker's pod.

"Shepard!" he screamed as the doors closed in front of him.

The pod's rockets ignite as it was propelled away from the exploding ship. It began to shake as it entered the planet's atmosphere. Once it finished the reentry, the pod maneuvered to join the rest of the survivors.

Inside, the lone occupant felt numb. He stared blankly at the doors that sealed Commander Shepard's fate. Two of the things he had spent the last year protecting were now above him, probably burning away as they fell to the planet below.

Even has he felt the telltale thump of landing, Joker sat unmoving. He didn't know how long he was there, but, after some time, he heard voices outside his pod. Suddenly, the door he was staring at slid apart. Hope rose in Joker's chest, expecting to see the commander's face smiling back at him.

Once the blinding light subsided, that hope died. Lt. Alenko and Dr. T'Soni were standing there, fully armored in the biting cold that was now invading his refuge. He noticed that Liara searched the small pod before finally settling her questioning eyes on him.

"Where is Shepard?" she asked.

Joker couldn't bare her gaze. His head drooped.

"Where is Troy, Jeff?" she asked again, this time more forcefully.

"He…" he choked. "He didn't make it."

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Hello all! I am back. I'm going to try something a little different this time. I want to see how the story will turn out if none of the chapters are from Shepard's perspective. Hopefully it will keep the story fresh and exciting to both read and write. This does mean that the chapters will more than likely be shorter. I imagine that means they will be more frequent and numerous as well, so it all evens out._

_The story will have filler chapters for each squad member for those two years Shepard is indisposed, and I will try to keep the chapter count for each member relatively equal throughout the entire story (except for Jacob, I am finding him rather boring and hard to write, apologize in advanced to Jacob lovers)._

_And, as always, please review to tell me what is good and what I need to work on. I am forever open to criticism._

_Enough of me talking and wasting time here. Onward!_


	2. Garrus

**Garrus**

"Vakarian!" a voice called from just outside Garrus' small office. A human head popped in the door way. "The captain wants to see you."

His mandibles twitched in irritation, and he was barely able to hold back a frustrated growl. "What does he want this time, Lamont?" he asked.

Lamont's entire body came into view as he leaned on doorframe. He shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know exactly, but I would put money on the Trigon case if I had to guess."

Garrus swore under his breath. The Trigons had been a thorn in his side since he took it four months ago. They were a gang of drug runners that were starting to fill the vacuum left by the bigger gangs' destruction after Sovereign's attack. Their small size made them especially elusive, but Garrus caught a break and apprehended one of the middle men that could help bring the entire organization down.

The turian locked his console and stood. "Might as well get this over with."

"Good idea," Lamont said with a nod. "Hey. A couple of the others are going out for drinks tonight. Going to check out that new club Purgatory. Want to come with?"

Garrus shook his head. "I have a lot of work to do all ready, and I'm thinking I'm going to get saddled with more." He moved out his office and toward the captain's.

Lamont walked with him. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to let your hair-" he started but faltered as he glanced at the turian's fringe, "I mean, relax a little bit. You're going to drive yourself insane if you don't."

He knew the human was right. Working in C-Sec again still frustrated him to no end. Garrus didn't know what he was expecting when he decided to come back. He should have known there would be no change in how the organization worked.

Still, he didn't feel up for a night of drinking.

"Maybe next time," was his response.

Lamont sighed before heading off toward his desk. "You're always welcome in case you change your mind."

Garrus watched at the human's retreating figure. He liked the man and was glad that C-Sec didn't pass on a great officer due to their antiquated prejudice against humans. Truthfully, the geth attack on the Citadel had thinned their ranks considerably. They needed all the warm bodies they could get a hold of to fill the void.

He turned his attention back to the task at hand and mentally prepared himself for whatever may come his way. He hit the call button just outside the captain's office. The doors unlocked and slid away.

A turian that was sitting behind his rather large desk didn't look up at the new arrival. Garrus wasn't surprised. The old man had perfected his strict demeanor over years of military and police service. He wouldn't acknowledge him until the older turian deemed it absolutely necessary.

Garrus stood in front of the man's desk. "You wished to see me, Captain?"

He still didn't answer, deciding to continue to read the report of a datapad instead. Just as Garrus was about to try again, the captain spoke without looking up.

"I released Kishpaugh," he said simply.

Garrus couldn't believe what he had just heard. He didn't want to believe it. If what the old turian said was true, Garrus would be set back to square one on the Trigon case.

"You did what?" Garrus said while fighting to keep some semblance of composure. He felt himself failing miserably.

"I released Kishpaugh," the captain stated again.

Garrus lost the battle. "Why did you do that? It has taken me a month to build enough of a case just to apprehend Kishpaugh. He was ready to flip on the whole gang to keep his slimy ass out of jail. You've just undid nearly four months of detective work."

The old turian scoffed and looked past the datapad at him. He regarded Garrus with dark, unwavering eyes. His aged carapace ringed with a pale green gave the man an air of authority that could only be bestowed by many years.

"You call that shoddy job detective work?"

"'Shoddy'?! What the hell do you mean, 'shoddy'?"

"I found evidence tampering, witness coercion, and assault when I looked through your case reports. I don't know what else to call it." The captain returned his gaze to the datapad he never put down. "You left me no choice but to release him. I expect this from the rookies that are calling themselves C-Sec officers these days, not from you, Inspector."

"It's so easy for you to sit back and past judgment from behind that desk. When's the last time you've been out there? There is a power struggle that is about to boil over. I'm doing my best to keep the worst from happening, and you would rather have me here, doing paperwork?"

"So the rules are just there to break if you don't like them. Is that it?"

"What? No!" Garrus replied surprised. "It's just-"

The captain didn't let him finish. "It's nothing," he said sternly as he finally stood. "This isn't just a job, Garrus. You have to see the bigger picture. There are over a million people on this station, and each one has their own idea on how society should work. Some days, we are the only thing holding this place together. It's not meant to be easy, but if filling out paperwork is too much for you, then maybe you're just not cut out for this job."

The old turian moved around his desk to stand directly in front of him. "You're stuck as an inspector because you don't like the way this police force is ran. If you would just follow the rules and the law, you could be a lieutenant by now. But you don't want to do that, do you? I swear-"

"I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment to you, Dad."

Garrus got the desired response, stopping the captain's rant before it could really gather steam. His father looked at him coldly. He didn't dare push any further.

Finally, the older Vakarian rounded his desk and sat back down.

"I swear, son. You were always stubborn, but after you came back from gallivanting around with that human Spectre, you've been damn insufferable."

Garrus' mandibles flared with the mention of Shepard. "Mom always said I got my stubbornness from you," he spat.

The sudden silence filled the room. It was an unspoken rule between the two men to never bring her up. It usually ended in heated arguments that neither wanted to get into.

The older turian didn't respond to Garrus' jab, choosing to continue his line of thought. "Traveling with that human made you forget how important the law is. Spectres take the law in their own hands and do as they see fit. They are a blight on the galaxy, a disease I'm afraid you may have caught. And after his death, you were left without direction. Do you realize how hard it was to get you back into C-Sec? You're fortunate I was able to pull enough strings to do so."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have bothered," Garrus said with finality.

His dad's eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He wasn't expecting this turn of events when he entered, but he knew it was the right choice. "I mean that you're right about me. I'm not cut out filing all the necessary paperwork. I quit."

Garrus removed his C-Sec issued sidearm from his hip and placed it on the desk. He turned and started to walk out the door but changed his mind before he completely left. Marching back to the desk, he pointed an accusatory finger at the captain.

"And let me tell you something about Commander Shepard. He may have been a Spectre, but he always acted with the upmost respect for the rules. More than once I thought he sounded like you with all his talk of following orders and abiding by the law. I only saw him break a direct order once and that was when we left the Citadel for Ilos to stop that traitor Saren. The decision tore him up inside. Everyone could see that. But he knew that it had to be done. Sometimes rules need to be broken to save the people they were meant to protect."

With that, Garrus angrily walked out of the captain's office for the last time.

* * *

Garrus found himself standing in front of The Serpent Cloud, a seedy bar in the lower levels of the wards that reminded him of Chora's Den. Normally, he would never even approach this level, let alone an dive like this, but he was on a mission.

Without hesitation, the turian entered and immediately regretted it. The dump was stuffy and smelled of stale alcohol, dirty sweat, and strong fragrances in a futile attempt to overcome the other odors. Besides the various patrons and lone barkeep, there were a number of asari maidens dancing on stages and a solitary krogan in the back, his eyes watching for any signs of trouble.

A quick scan of the room led Garrus to the man he was looking for. He was sitting in front of one of the asari, drooling over her writhing form. Somehow the man spotted the turian. He sat back in his chair with a smug smile on his face.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite C-Sec officer. How you doing, Garrus? Hope you aren't too sore about having to let me go. You worked so hard to get me there too."

"Get up, Kishpaugh. We're going to have a little talk."

The human put a finger to his lips and looked off into the distance, the slimly smirk never leaving his face. He then shook his head. "Naw. I'm good here. Thanks for the offer though."

Garrus hoped he would answer like that. It already took quite a bit of time and a few broken bones to finally find him, and he wasn't against some more bodily harm. He roughly grabbed the back of the human's head and slammed it against the stage. Kishpaugh's nose made a satisfying cracking sound. The asari yelped and jumped back in surprise before she called for the krogan bouncer.

"What the hell is going on here?" the krogan demanded as he drew close.

Garrus grabbed the back of the human's neck and lifted him. "My friend here has had too many drinks and seemed to have broken his nose on stage. Don't worry. I'll get him to a clinic." He threw a credit chit to the asari. "Sorry for him scaring you like that."

"Tiera?" the krogan asked the dancer.

Her eyes shot a questioning glance at Garrus before they widened when she saw the generous amount of credits he left for her. She quickly regained her composure and turned to the bouncer. "He just slipped, Lutik. All that blood just surprised me."

The krogan still looked skeptical but couldn't do much without a complaint from the dancer. "Get him out of here, turian, and I better not see either one of your faces here again," he said menacingly.

Garrus almost laughed at his threat. After nearly a year spent in Wrex's company, he found the bluster of other krogan severely lacking any fire he knew should be there. Thought of his old friend made him realize he hadn't talked to the old krogan in a long time. Garrus would have to see how he was doing on Tuchanka.

Not wanting to get in a bar brawl with the krogan, he led his new 'friend' out of the dive and tossed him into a quiet and secluded alley.

"What the fuck, man?! I think you broke my nose," Kishpaugh exclaimed as he gingerly felt the bleeding and swollen appendage.

"Who's your supplier, Kishpaugh?" Garrus asked firmly.

The human ignored him. "You don't know what the fuck you just did, birdy. Once they take your badge for this, me and my boys are going to mess you up something fierce. You better-"

The man was interrupted by a right hook to the jaw. Garrus was done playing games with scum. The turian roughly grabbed his jacket and slammed his back against the wall. He could see a flicker of fear in the human's eyes.

"Last chance, Kishpaugh," Garrus snarled, "or we're going to visit the incinerators. Your supplier. Who is it?"

"You- you can't do this. You can't kill me. You're C-Sec. You have to follow the rules."

He slammed him against the wall again. "I'm not C-Sec anymore. I quit. Now, who is your supplier?"

The flicker of fear grew to absolute terror. "I-I-I don't know. They never told me. I swear, Garrus."

"You have been selling anything you can get your grubby hands on, and you claim to have no idea who is from? I don't believe you for a second." He lifted the scared man higher, starting to choke him in the process.

Kishpaugh gasped for air and struggled against Garrus' iron grip. He finally squeaked out some words the turian couldn't quite make out.

"What was that?" he asked as he slowly let him down to better fill his lungs.

"Omega," the man said once he found his voice again. "I don't know who supplies us, but everything comes from Omega."

Garrus mulled over this new information. It made sense. Over a third of all drugs that reach the Citadel came from the lawless station, and everyone in C-Sec knew it. Omega was an example of how bad everything could go if there were no laws.

"Thank you for all your help, Kishpaugh," he said as he let go of the human's jacket. "It was a pleasure getting to know you."

He dusted himself off. "Yeah, a real fucking blast."

Garrus gave him one last parting gift, a forehead to the remainder of his mangled nose. He left the man in the dirty alley, yelling obscenities. He didn't have any more time to waste on the human. There was a trip to plan.

A few hours later, he had booked a transport to the Terminus Systems, packed up the few things he needed from his modest apartment, and told the landlord he was moving out and could sell what was left for the inconvenience of breaking the lease.

Just as he was about to leave, the flash of an incoming call caught his attention. He answered it and found the captain's stern glare on the other side.

"Listen, son. If you don't want to work for us anymore, that's fine, but you can't go around assaulting people. You're lucky that some asari dancer swears up and down that Kishpaugh broke his nose as he was trying to grab at her. If it wasn't for her testimony, you would have C-Sec officers at your door right now. If you keep pushing the line, I will arrest you myself. Do you hear me, Vakarian?"

"Loud and clear. Don't worry. I won't be a problem for you anymore. I'm going somewhere far out of your jurisdiction, somewhere I can actually make a difference."

"Oh yea? And where is that?"

"Omega," Garrus answered. He disconnected the call.

* * *

His first impression of Omega was worse than he thought imaginable. The station was a mess. On approach, Garrus could see that the older structures had some semblance of aesthetically forethought as well as functionality. The newer additions, however, were haphazardly placed on top of each other with little thought beyond "we need more room." What was left was a jumbled mess of towers that had little rhyme or reason.

The interior was no better. Just out of the airlock, there were information screens and advertisements that flickered with a low power warning. The air smelled of refuse, sweat, and decay. Garrus could tell that the air scrubbers were overtaxed by the horrid perfume.

The people here were in no better shape. Most rarely made eye contact with the armored turian, and those that did were thinly veiled assessments of him. All of them looked weary and beaten to some extent. Garrus didn't know how anyone could live like that.

The entire experience could be defined by the mugging he found in one of the numerous alleys. A vorcha was holding a knife to the throat of an elderly female human with, what Garrus assumed, her human husband standing some distance away. The attacker was yelling at the old man to give him more money with him responding that what was already given was all they had. All of this was happening a no more than ten meters away from the indifferent crowd on the road.

Garrus was not so callous and approached the trio, reaching them just as the vorcha threw the old woman toward her husband.

"We don't want any trouble," the male human tried.

"This is not trouble," the vorcha rasped. "This going to be pleasure."

"You have no idea," Garrus said.

The vorcha spun to find who the sudden voice belonged and was rewarded with an uppercut to the chin. Garrus hit the would-be attacker so hard that a piece of his chin flew farther down the alley as a bloody chunk. He landed on the ground with a thud and didn't get up. Once they realized the new arrival was there to save them, the older humans crept out of the shadows they were trying to hide in. They were still huddled together, but they seemed slightly calmer.

"Thank you," the old woman said with visible relief. "Thank you so much. We came to find our son. He – we…" she trailed off.

"Ma'am," Garrus said calmly. "It's okay. I think you should just head home for now. It's going to be hard to find anyone on this station."

He didn't want to say it may not be worth it to try. It seemed there were only three types of people on Omega: the predators, the slaves, and the dead. He doubted they would want to find their son in any of those states.

The male human spoke. "He's right, Marge. We can't stay here. We need to get going."

As he led her away, she yelled back toward Garrus. "You're an angel, sir. A real-life angel."

His mandibles flicked in a turian smile as he watched the two walk away. Garrus felt something he hadn't since his time on the _Normandy_ over a year ago, a sense of rightness. He was meant to be here, helping those that couldn't help themselves.

He chuckled at that the memory of Shepard spouting those words every chance he could. _"I'm a Shepard. My job is to protect my flock, help those that can't help themselves."_

"Seems you instilled more in me than I realized, Shepard," he said quietly. "I'm going to steal your mantra, if you don't mind." Garrus got the feeling the commander wouldn't.

Now, if he only knew what an angel was.

* * *

**_Author's__ Note:_**

_Well, so much for faster uploads. I meant to get this done in a few days, but it turned into a week, then almost two. I'll endeavor to do better with my next update._

_A few facts about this chapter. First, I borrowed heavily from the Mass Effect Homeworlds #3 comic book starring Garrus Vakarian. You will see more of what happened in that comic later as well. For those of you that know the book, I'm sure you already know what I'm talking about. Second, the pale green tint I gave to Garrus' dad is actually based on a little bit of science. Thulium, the element that gives turians their metallic look, oxidizes into a pale green in the same way that iron turns red when it rusts. Congratulations! You just learned something by reading fan fiction! I wanted to give him some age like human's grey hair, but I didn't see wrinkles working well on their hard carapaces (carapaci? I don't know the plural). So this is the solution I came up with. I thought it was interesting at least._

_I digress. As always, thank you for reading, and please review!_


	3. Liara

**Liara**

Liara quickly opened her eyes to find an unfamiliar bulkhead surrounding her. Panic set in from the foreign setting before she remembered that she was aboard a ship on her way to Omega. She tried to calm her rapidly beating heart but found it difficult. Between the dream she just escaped from and her impending mission, it was a challenge to relax.

The attack on the _Normandy_ and Troy's disappearance struck Liara much harder then she would have thought. Clutching to any hope of his survival, she had asked anyone who would take her credits to report on any news about the missing Spectre. Amazingly, an information broker informed her of a drell on Omega that had some news of the commander's whereabouts. Now, a mere month after the attack, Liara had chartered a ship to take her there immediately.

She exited her humble compartment and headed to the cockpit to check the status of their journey. Just outside the opened door, she heard the small crew talking to each other.

"-part of Commander Shepard's team," one of them said.

"I wouldn't worry about that, turian," the captain said. He was batarian, so Liara didn't trust him in any sense of the word. "They haven't seen Shepard in a month. Not since the _Normandy_ got taken out. If two-eyes back there wants help from a Spectre, she'd better pick one that's still alive."

Liara would never be described as short tempered but talking about her bondmate in such a manner struck a nerve. She made her presence known to what she now saw were two turians and the batarian captain.

"I will thank you not to speak that way about my friends, captain. Dead or alive."

All three men turned toward her.

"You're awake," the captain said. For some reason, he was holding a shotgun ready. "So did our little asari cargo enjoy her flight? We tried not to make it too bumpy for you."

"I don't know. Maybe she likes it rough," one of the turians said. It was the same one that evoked Troy's name moments before. It appeared that he was no longer hesitant once he learned of the commander's supposed fate.

She decided to ignore his comment. "Are we ready to dock at Omega or not?"

"Soon, soon," the batarian started. His lips formed a cruel smile. "I wanted to have a talk with you first about certain docking fees. This is an expensive ship I run here. You wouldn't believe my overhead. I've been forced to hire people like the two brothers here, and I can't afford to give them any perks."

The three men began to surround her.

"You have been paid, batarian. Now, get back and-"

"Hey, hey," the first turian said pacifyingly. "It's all right. We're nice people. Everything's negotiable."

"If you can't pay, maybe we can think of something else," his brother added. He reached a clawed hand toward her.

Liara loosed her biotics and lifted the turian. "I said get back!"

"She's using biotics!" the batarian yelled as he brought his weapon to bear.

Liara never gave them a chance to fire. She flung the turian in her grip at the others. All three crumpled into a pile. After a tense moment, Liara relaxed as they showed no signs of movement. She started to gather their weapons when the radio cracked to life.

"Attention, batarian freighter. This is Omega control. Do you wish to dock or not?"

She was quick to answer. "This is Liara T'Soni. I apologize for the delay. I was negotiating my fare. Stand by for docking."

"Copy, T'Soni. This is this trip business or personal?"

"Both. I have someone I need to meet."

* * *

It did not take Liara long to find Afterlife. Once she got within a few blocks of the club, she could feel the heavy base rumble through the floor and hear faint music. She found it to be almost deafening when she entered. It did not deter her though. She was here for a reason.

She quickly found that the denizens of Omega were less than helpful as she would have hoped. Liara asked many of the patrons and bartenders if they had seen a drell informant. She received many scowls, and one particularly upset individual told her to "sod off." She had an inkling that her translator missed a particularly colorful word.

Liara just finished speaking with a very grumpy elcor. When she had asked about her contact, the large alien went on a tirade about how he was too busy watching the dancers and how it was rude for Liara to assume he would not appreciate dances. He even stated how wonderful elcors were at dancing before he lumbered off. Liara leaned on the bar, feeling somewhat defeated.

"You have to love the elcor," a male voice said. "They've all the expressiveness of your typical tree. If they didn't explain the nuance of what they're saying, it'd be just like talking to one."

"Oh, I do not know about that. I find them-" Liara stopped when she caught a glimpse of the man speaking. His hood was drawn over his head, but she caught a distinct orange and blue coloration of the alien's face and large dark eyes. She realized belatedly that his voice had that odd rasp that all drell shared. "You! You have something to tell me about Commander-"

The drell shushed her quickly. "No. Not here. Outside."

He got up and left with Liara on his heels. He was walking quickly, and she had to occasionally run to keep up.

"You really shouldn't be asking questions on Omega," he told her. "It's not safe, even if you're from here. And that information you wanted wasn't easy to find, even for me."

Before she could respond, the drell wrapped his hand around her arm and quickly pulled her into an alley way. When Liara tried to protest the sudden move, he clamped his hand down on her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Liara," he said after a quiet moment. He pulled his hood back so she could clearly see his face. "We were being followed. I'm Feron, by the way, and you're right. I do know where Shepard is. But you won't like what I have to tell you."

"Is he…" she tried before her voice caught. She tried to fight the eruption of emotions that could put her at risk here.

"Dead? Yes, or very close to it. It's hard to say. The body has been recovered in some sort of stasis pod. If he's not dead, then he isn't alive. I know you came a long way. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

Liara knew the drell was probably correct. It was nigh impossible to survive a reentry with just armor. But Troy had done the impossible before, and the informant unknowingly gave her a glimmer of hope. They put the body in a stasis pod, not a cryo tube. They were making an attempt to preserve Shepard the man, not just his body. It was a slim chance, but she clung to it.

"I need… I need to see him for myself, Feron."

"Liara, you aren't the only one looking for the commander. I suggest you let the dead sleep."

"I guess my words did not translate correctly into drell. I need to see him."

Feron let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. It's your money, your life." He led her back into the road. "This isn't the Citadel with their fancy transit system. You want to get somewhere, you walk."

Before Liara could even respond, a group of heavily armed people swooped down on top of them. The markings on their blue armor told her that they were part of the Blue Suns. Knowing them to be a dangerous group that was not above slaving, she readied her biotics.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a male voice calmly said. A turian approached them. "I imagine you are quite skilled with those biotics of yours, but you can't take all of us down before we get to you." He then roughly pushed Feron to his knees and placed his pistol to the drell's forehead. "And how quickly could you get to me? Faster than I can pull the trigger?"

Liara let her protective field drop, and two of the mercenaries quickly pinned her hands behind her back.

The turian's mandibles flicked with amusement. "Good. Now, I have some questions for you, okay? You've come a long way looking for someone who is no longer with us. The Shadow Broker wishes to know why."

"My business is mine and mine alone," Liara said heatedly.

"Unfortunately, it's not. The commander is a hot commodity right now, making it the Broker's and my business. So, let's try-"

The turian was interrupted by a gun shot that pierced his head.

"Sniper!" one of the people holding Liara yelled. Both let go of her as the entire gang turned to find where the shot came from.

She used the distraction to her advantage. She grabbed Feron by his hood and half led, half dragged him away from the erupting weapons. Once he got to his feet, Feron took the lead and started to run to safety. At least, that was what Liara hoped they were running towards.

Unfortunately, two heavily armed and armored men stood in the way. She recognized the emblem on their suits instantly. They both slid to a stop, readying themselves for an attack. Instead, a dark haired human woman stepped from in between the two men.

"Please, relax," she said in a heavy accent Liara had never heard before. "We are all working towards the same goal: finding Commander Shepard."

There were already too many people looking for Troy. Liara did not want another party added.

"Shepard is dead," she said.

The woman was not deterred. "That is what they say, but you and I both know that the commander has beaten the odds before. My name is Miranda. I represent someone very much interested to meet with you. Work with us, and we might be able to bring Shepard back."

She faltered at the human's words. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Miranda turned. "Just follow me. You can even bring the drell. We aren't being choosy today."

Liara was reluctant to follow her. They were Cerberus after all. After learning of what they did to Troy's squad on Akuze and Admiral Kahoku, she realized the pro-human group was willing to go to extreme measures to reach their goals. Trusting them would be a substantial risk as well as a betrayal to her bondmate.

But this Miranda woman said they were attempting to bring Troy back. That made their proposal worth hearing at least.

Liara followed the three humans. Feron took several more moments to decide but eventually ran to catch up.

"I don't think we should be doing this," he whispered to her. "Do you know who these people are?"

"They are Cerberus," she answered without looking. "A pro-human group that are intent to see humans as the driving force in the galaxy."

Feron scoffed. "More like a pro-human hate group."

"I would not go so far as to call them a hate group. Their actions may be… extreme at times, but they do not actively discourage interspecies relations. Besides, we have the same goal. It would be beneficial if we worked together."

"Yes, it would, Dr. T'Soni," Miranda said from the front of the line. She must have remarkable hearing to be able to understand their low whispers. "Now, if you would wait in this room. I must inform my boss that you are here. I will retrieve you when he is ready."

Liara nodded and entered the small room along with Feron. Once they were inside, the drell continued his rant.

"You realize why they want the commander, don't you? It's because he's human! First, human Spectres, then a seat on the Council. It's all about themselves with these people. Do you think they would help Shepard if he was a hanar or a turian?"

"They are protecting their heroes, Feron. Would the drell not do the same? I know the asari would. Do not assume that they are xenophobes simply because they are human-centric," Liara responded. She was quite aware that it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as well as Feron.

He huffed. "Fine. Be stubborn then, Liara. I won't be fooled by them."

She smiled at the man. "Then I hope you will be so kind as to watch my back."

Any response he might have made was interrupted by Miranda reentering the room.

"Our leader will see you now, Liara."

As she got up, Feron said, "I'll just stay here, if you don't mind."

"That's good because you weren't invited," Miranda said curtly.

She led Liara to a small room and told her to step inside. Once she did, an image erupted around her. She found herself in a much larger room with a large window facing a brilliantly orange nebula. Liara realized it was a hologram, but it appeared more real and vibrant than any other hologram she had seen.

Sitting in a chair that was facing away was a human male, grey hair displaying his age. When he spun to address her, his glowing blue eyes immediately caught her attention. She could not tell if his eyes were synthetic or some human genetic defect she had never heard of, but they gave the man an otherworldly feel.

"Hello, Liara T'Soni. You may call me the Illusive Man," he said.

Liara crossed her arms. "What am I doing here? Why did you send your people to seek me out?"

"Straight to the point of the matter. I admire that," the Illusive Man said approvingly. "In truth, I hope that you and I could be friends."

"I believed I could be friends with anyone that was searching for the commander. I realize that was a naïve thought now. So tell me, why should I trust Cerberus to help me? Why are you searching for him?"

"Shepard is unique. He is one of the greatest examples of our species, a symbol to all humanity. Dead or alive, we want Shepard back in human hands."

Liara was getting the distinct feeling he was not being completely honest with her. "I do not understand. If the commander is dead, why would you wish for a corpse?"

"Being an asari, I don't expect you to understand our traditions. The reasons don't matter. What does is that we are not the only ones looking. I believe you have already met who the Shadow Broker has hired to prevent you from acquiring Shepard's body. You see, he needs it for a deal with the Collectors."

She was not ready for that. "The Collectors?! They are slavers. What would they want with a dead body?"

"That's what we want you to find out. The Collectors are little more than vagabonds, turning up every once in a while to take unique, but trivial individuals: a dyslexic krogan, a left-handed turian, an elcor that sings well. Their interest in Shepard is alarming. We would like the remains in any event, but it is vital that they do not have them. Whatever their reasons are, they can't be good. That's why we need you."

"Why choose me? You seem to have plenty of resources and Miranda and her team here. Why do you require an asari's help?"

"We have our role to play, but we can't directly defy the Broker. Besides, you have a personal motive driving you. You were _very_ close with Shepard. When I heard you were here, I wanted you on my team. Can we count on you?"

By the way the Illusive Man emphasized his words, Liara knew that he was aware of their relationship. It annoyed her to no end. "No, but Troy can."

* * *

After discussing what should be done next, Miranda dropped them off at one of the busier parts of Omega. Liara hoped that meant they would not see much action for a time. She had only been on the station for half a day, and she had already survived a scuffle, two ambushes, and a firefight. Life here was exhausting.

"They are bigger fools than I thought. You saw what happened when I led you somewhere. What makes them think I know what to do now?" Feron said after the Cerberus agent left.

Liara couldn't keep the anger from her voice. "I think you do. You are an agent of the Shadow Broker, and they know it."

When he turned to give Liara a questioning looked, she placed a bioticly charged punch on his chin. He fell unceremoniously on the ground.

"You could have killed me!" he said in outrage.

"Those mercs could have killed me!" she yelled back. "You were the only one here that knew I was looking for Shepard, but they found me anyway. So either they knew exactly what you were up to or you sold me out. So you are going to help me from now on."

Feron dropped his gaze in shame. "Fine. I still think this is a bad idea, but I will. I owe you that much." He stood and started to walk. "We need to go talk to the queen."

"Queen? I thought Omega had no central governing body."

He smiled at her. "No official one, but everyone knows who runs this place. Aria T'Loak."

They made their way back to Afterlife of all places. Supposedly, the club was what T'Loak used as her center of government. It spoke volumes to Omega's and her queen's priorities.

When they finally met the mysterious woman, Liara was surprised to find that she was an asari. Liara assumed she was in the matron stage, and her purple coloration spoke of her family's place of origin. Only asari from the Isles of Alria, a group of islands in the middle of the largest body of water on Thessia, had that skin tone.

Her attempt to use this knowledge to her advantage proved ineffective, however. Aria was unimpressed and reluctant to help. She became downright hostile once they told her that the Shadow Broker was trading with the Collectors. She was ready to throw the two out before a final plea from Liara changed her mind. Aria gave them a location on where the Blue Suns were meeting the Broker's agents.

When they arrived, they found half a dozen Blue Suns waiting impatiently. Just as the two found a secure spot to plan their attack, a ship entered the dock and landed. The gangplank lowered, and a very large salarian exited. It appeared he had a grenade launcher in his hands.

Feron swore and ducked behind the boxes. "Forget any thought about this being easy. That oversized horn-head down there is Tazzik. Of course the Broker would send Taz."

"What does that matter?" Liara asked, never taking her eyes off the movement below them.

"Taz is the Broker's only hit man. He usually uses gangs like the Suns to do his dirty work. Makes it less likely it's traced back to him. He only sends in Taz when he wants to make sure the job is done right."

She was only half listening to the drell when she saw the Suns pull out a large case shaped like a coffin. The salarian in question inspected it meticulously before handing one of the mercs a credit chit.

Liara stood and began to pulse with biotic power before Feron quickly pulled her back down behind the crates.

"What are you doing? That's Troy!" she protested.

"It's too risky, Liara. There are a dozen of them and only two of us. Shepard will be on the ship and gone before we even get close."

"I've crossed the galaxy for this, Feron. I am not letting him get away now."

He gave a sly smile that unsettled her. "I know. That's why I suggest we use that gun over there to disable Taz's ship."

She looked to where he was pointing. There was a large defense gun, left over from whatever this hanger used to be. The plan was sound, but after his earlier betrayal, Liara did not trust the drell. Still, it was her best chance.

"Fine, but do not make me regret trusting you."

While Feron went to work on the gun, she snuck closer and readied herself for the assault. Nothing happened for a long time. Liara grew tired of waiting and stood to pursue her bondmate's body. Just as she vaulted over the boxes she was using for cover, a wave of heat and pressure slammed into her, sending her into the wall.

Dazed, Liara slowly rose to see the carnage around her. Instead of hitting the ship, the turret's shot must have gone wide and struck boxes that had contained some type of volatile substances. Her eyes flew to the offending gun to find it in ruins amidst bodies of the Blue Suns.

Then, she noticed Taz entering his ship, a smoking grenade launcher ready for another attack. Before Liara could even begin to move, the entrance sealed, and the ship left the hanger. She ground her teeth in frustration.

She noticed movement in the destruction. Her biotics flared as she approached whoever had survived. Her anger grew when she realized who it was.

"I should have never trusted you again!" Liara yelled at the retreating Feron. "You are actively trying to kill me now. I knew you still worked for the Shadow Broker."

The drell held up his hands in a seemingly futile attempt to stop her rage. "I never stopped working for the Broker, as far as he knows, but I didn't do that on purpose. Do you honestly believe I want the Collectors to have Shepard's body? This situation is just delicate. There is more at play here than you know. Now you can either blast me again, or we can get to my ship and follow Taz. It's your choice."

Liara really wanted to hit him. This was the second time she felt that Feron had betrayed her, regardless of what he claimed. She loosed a frustrated yell and sent a biotic pulse toward the man. He flinched away. Once he realized that felt no pain, he eyed Liara before turning to see the heavily dented containers less than a meter from his head.

"Feeling better?" he tried with a tentative grin. "I'm really glad-"

"Do not speak," Liara interrupted, "or I will strike somewhere entirely less pleasant for you."

He took her advice, and both quickly made their way back to the drell's ship. They eventually caught up to the ship carrying Troy's body just as they started to head through the mass relay.

"Don't worry," Feron said softly. He was tempting fate, and he knew it. "The Broker only has one base through that relay. It won't be too hard to track Taz."

She did not answer.

When they finally shot through the relay, Feron turned in his chair to face her.

"It will take us a few hours to get there. You should get some rest."

"I am fine," Liara answered curtly.

He visibly winced at her harsh tone. "You've been using your biotics relentlessly since you arrived on Omega. I may not be one myself, but I know how tiring constant use can be."

Liara knew he was right. It seemed that she never had a time to relax since arriving on Omega, jumping from fight to fight. The only reason she was still on her feet was the adrenaline. Now that it was waning, she felt the tiring day's affect her.

"And where do you propose I relax? It is not as if you have an extra chair here." Liara had been forced to stand in the small, crowded cockpit.

"Yea, sorry about that. I'm not used to having visitors. The back there isn't so bad. I think I even have a pillow and a covering somewhere," he said as he stood.

She put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into his chair. "Do not fret over me. Just make sure we arrive at the Broker's base."

"Don't worry, Liara. I won't leave you on some deserted planet. I'm too scared of what you would do to me when you found me."

Feron's attempt at levity did little to improve her mood. She cleared a space in the corner of the small enclosure and fell asleep as soon as she rested on the bulkhead.

* * *

The dream started familiar enough. She was in comfortable confines of Shepard's cabin. His presence filled the small room. Liara closed her eyes, reveling in the safety she felt there.

When she opened her eyes again, the _Normandy_ was on fire. Troy was working feverishly at a console. She did not wait for him to acknowledge her presence. She picked up a fire suppressor and began to work on the flames.

"The distress beacon is ready for launch," he said as he turned around. His face was grimy with soot and slick with sweat. His helmet lay forgotten on the floor.

"Will the Alliance arrive here on time?" she asked.

An explosion sent them stumbling. Liara felt his strong hand on her arm, steadying her.

"They'll be here," he answered. "They won't let us down."

She nodded, reassured. "The evacuation is almost complete. However, Joker will not leave his post."

Troy searched for his rolling helmet. "Don't worry about him. I'll get him to a pod. You get to one yourself."

"I am not leaving either," she said defiantly as she continued her work on the fire.

Troy's strong hand grabbed her again, this time turning her so she would be forced to face him.

"I need you to get the crew on the evac shuttles. Don't fight me on this, Liara. Please, go."

She was forced to look straight into those large, brown eyes of his. They pleaded that she listened to him. Liara wondered if he left off his helmet on purpose. He knew she could rarely muster the willpower to deny him when he looked at her like that.

She wanted to say something, wanted to make sure Troy would take care of himself. But no words formed. She simply nodded and headed to the pods.

The dream shifted through images of the _Normandy_'s destruction: burning hallways, exploding terminals, charred bodies riddled with shrapnel. Now, she was in the shuttle, watching as another piercing beam struck her home causing the cockpit to separate from the rest of the ship. Relief flooded her when she saw one last pod jettison from broken vessel just before it blew completely.

Liara found herself in front of that last shuttle that escaped the dying ship. Hoped welled within her just to be destroyed with the doors open to reveal its lone occupant. She felt a piece of herself shatter as Joker looked up at her full of sorrow and regret. Softly, in the background, she heard her name being spoken over and over again. She could have sworn it sounded like Troy.

* * *

Her eyes opened to find a traitorous drell much too close for her liking. Her biotics glowed threateningly.

"Whoa, whoa! Calm down, Liara," Feron quickly said as he backed up. "I was just trying to wake you up. No need to throw me across the ship."

She slowly rose and realized they were stopped.

"Where are we?"

"Alingon. We still have to hurry if we are going to stop the Collectors."

"Then what are we waiting for. Lead the way."

They made their way to a large compound surrounded by jagged mountains. On the way, Feron explained that the intense magnetosphere from the planet's swiftly spinning iron core made all sensors obsolete and communication near impossible without extremely sophisticated and expensive technology. In essence, no one could possibly know they were there.

Once they were at the doors, Feron convinced the two guards on duty that Liara was an asari escort, and he was there to deliver her. With a quick promise of bringing a few extras for them next time, the two passed the guards and entered the base proper. Liara watched the few people moving about as they made their way further into the interior.

"There are not many people here," she whispered.

"This place is only used for special business. Handing over Shepard qualifies."

Liara's fists clenched. "I am growing quite tired of my friend being described as merchandise."

"I don't think he cares much at this point, but I see your point."

Her biotics flared slightly at his words before she remembered that she was supposed to be a prisoner. Liara felt the bite of her fingernails in palm of her hand as they unconsciously tightened.

After a few more minutes of walking in silence, Liara finally asked. "Where are you taking me, Feron?"

"The communications hub. We need to figure out where the transfer is being done and why the Broker is starting to deal with the Collectors."

"Why is that information worthy of potentially losing the commander? Would recovering his remains be enough to foil their plans?"

Feron's shoulders slumped, and she heard him let out a long sigh. "Because the Illusive Man wants to know."

That struck Liara as odd. "How would you know what the Illusive Man desires? You were not in the meeting with me. Unless…" She trailed off as the pieces began to fall in place. "You are working for Cerberus!"

"Will you be quiet?!" he said harshly. Once she had calmed down, he continued in hushed tones. "Yes, I'm working for Cerberus. Usually, I'm not one that cares for what my clients do with the information I give them, but when the Broker started dealing with the Collectors, I knew it was bad news. I wanted no part of it. I reached out to Illusive Man. When we heard you were coming, we came up with a plan to get Shepard's body back as well as figure out the Shadow Broker's intentions."

"So you are a double – no, triple agent then? That is why you let them get away on Omega, so they would lead you here." She glared at him. "You have lied to me so many times. Why should I believe a word that comes from your mouth anymore?"

He smiled ruefully at her. "You shouldn't, but I'm still your best bet in getting his body back," Feron said before he started back down the direction he was heading.

Liara knew he was correct and begrudgingly followed. She hated herself for being so naïve in trusting the man leading her. She hated that she was still forced to trust him. But most of all, she hated that she trusted that he was telling the truth. He truly did not want to see Troy in the hands of the Collectors.

"We're here," he said, bringing Liara out of her thoughts.

They were standing in a room much larger than those she had seen on the way here. It was filled with consoles that appeared to be very advanced. Beyond them stood a humanoid shape, obscured by an intense white light.

"Reporting for work, Feron?" came an electronic, obviously altered voice. "People only come to see the Shadow Broker when I call. I didn't call."

"Is he serious?" Liara whispered.

"He speaks to everyone this way. I've never actually been this close before." Feron stole a quick glance at the consoles. "Distract him while I get the information I need. Then we can stop the exchange."

"I am waiting for an answer, Feron," the Broker said, oblivious to their conversation. "Since when do you think you could come here uninvited?"

"Since you started dealing with the Collectors, Shadow Broker," Liara spat.

"The Collectors present great rewards to whoever can find the unique specimens they request. I am a business man first and foremost. They made an offer I simply could not ignore."

"I do not understand. I do not understand why anyone would sell my friend's remains. What could they possibly offer you that is worth that?"

"The compensation is my business, Dr. T'Soni," the figure answered. "Yes, I know who you are and what you want. I wish to inform you that I have no ill will towards Shepard or his friends. It was simply good business."

Liara let her biotics glow and closed the distance between them. "Shepard was looking into the Reapers when he died. Did you even consider the Collectors' interest might be related to that?"

"Please, Dr. T'Soni. It is a corpse. What could they possibly gain from it?"

"If it is a corpse they want, I can find them a suitable replacement…" she trailed off. Once she was close enough, she realized that the form before her was not organic but made of metal. "You are not even here. Where are you?"

"Where I am needed. The exchange is complete. My presence is not required. You are too late."

Liara ground her teeth until her jaw began to ache. Furious at the smugness in the Broker's voice, she could barely hold back her rage. So when Feron said he was done downloading, she unleashed all her frustration and aggression that had been building up since she arrived on Omega. Once she was done, there was nothing left functional.

"That felt good."

"Well, you certainly are good at destroying a room." He held up a data stick. "And I got some files about the Broker's dealings."

"Yes, but it cost us Troy," she said miserably. "He said the Collectors already have the body."

A small smile formed. "Not yet. They are still in the north dock, waiting for it to pressurize. If we move, we can still stop them."

Liara brightened at the news, and the duo quickly made their way to the exchange. When they arrived, Taz and a Collector were standing over Troy's open stasis pod. The Collector seemed satisfied with the contents, replaced the lid, and held the container protectively.

Feron startled her when he quickly spun to face her. "Listen, Liara. I know I haven't been straight with you, but I hope you realize it's because I needed to confirm information." He placed the data stick in her hand. "But maybe this will change things. Make sure this gets to Cerberus. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

With that, the drell stood and started to walk to the small group before Liara could stop him. Taz seemed annoyed at the intrusion, but he remained as friendly as she could imagine him being. Feron's words did not reach her, but he obviously said something that upset the Collector. Everyone began to tense as the situation degraded.

At Taz's order, one of the agents returned Troy's body to the ship. The Collector went slack for a few moments before pointing an accusatory finger at Feron. Taz and the rest of the Broker's squad leveled their weapons at him. Liara could no longer stay silent and sprang to his aid.

She unleashed a whirlwind of biotic energy that sent almost everyone off their feet. She saw Feron jump on Taz to keep him from pursuing her as she made her way to ship and the pod. The only obstacle left was the Collector who barred her way. Liara charged her fist with energy and slammed it into the side of the aliens face, feeling the hard exoskeleton crack under the force.

Once she was on the gangplank, the asari turned and yelled, "Let's go, Feron!"

She found him still clutching the overgrown salarian as Taz relentlessly struck his face. Blood was pouring from his nose and mouth, and an eye was swelling.

"Go!" he yelled in between the punches. "Get Shepard out of here!"

Liara did what he had asked and left the drell to his fate.

* * *

Liara watched as a team of Cerberus scientists took Troy's body down the various halls of the space station. She followed them but was denied entry into the actual operating room. Instead, she watch through glass as the team worked to assess the damage to his body.

Absentmindedly, she squeezed her hands, reminding her of the small chunks of metal she was holding. The asari opened her fist to reveal the two thin metal plates that were the remains of his dog tags. She found the chain rattling in the bottom of the stasis pod when she opened it hours before to check its contents. They were mangled so badly that the name, numbers, and other identifiers were unreadable by her translator. Their damaged reflected their owner's condition.

Remarkably, Liara had found that the small red chord Troy kept between the tags, a gift he received from his sister months before the Mindoir attack, somehow survived. The "bracelet" as he called it had brought back painfully peaceful memories of her fiddling with his lone article of jewelry while in they relaxed in bed.

When she had commented on his necklace, he responded, "It's not a necklace, Cielo. They are my dog tags. There is a big difference."

"Oh," she said, amused. "And what is that?"

He had plucked the metal plates out of her hand and adjusted his position on the bed to show them to her. "Well, they have all of my identifying markers they would need to make sure I get home if I ever… fall." The last word had been carefully chosen. "They also have my blood type in case I lose too much of my own. It's very bad for humans to get the wrong blood. And it also has my religion so the proper funeral can be arranged.

"But more than that," Troy had continued, "it marks me as a marine, a reminder that I am a soldier who swore to protect the Earth and her colonies."

Liara could understand that. While she was never interested in becoming a huntress, she did know the vows they were forced to accept before entering the service. Then there were the justicars which were an entirely different animal with their unambiguous moral Code.

She had contemplated ending the discussion there, but the scientist in her got the better of her.

"And what of Daily's gift?"

Liara felt him tense under her. Her first instinct had been to retract the question. Before she could, however, Troy had answered.

"A reminder of those that are no longer with me," had been his short but weighted reply.

She had broken down on the ship then. Tears had streamed down her cheeks as she held Troy's dog tags. Memories of the year and a half she spent with him on the _Normandy_ came unbidden, forcing her to her knees. Even after seeking secluded archeological digs, she had never felt as truly alone as she did at that very moment, and she found she did not crave the isolation any longer.

Liara felt a hand on her shoulder which snapped her back into the present. She quickly hid the tags away in her hand and cursed herself for being caught unawares. She was, after all, on a Cerberus station. While they were not xenophobes in the purest sense, the organization held no love for aliens.

"You did well, Dr. T'Soni," Miranda's accent voice said. "We were right to place our faith in you. Shepard made some very good friends."

"Do not congratulate me," she said as she shrugged away the human's hand. "I just handed Troy's remains to a group that wiped out everyone he was with on Akuze, a large majority of which came directly from his platoon. I cannot help but feel like I have betrayed him. Just… just tell me that it was worth it. "

She did not respond immediately. "I wish I had better news. The damage to his body was worse than we realized. We may not be able to bring him back as planned. There is still a possibility, but it will take much more time."

"It may be for the better," Liara said, hoping to keep the bitter despair from her voice. "I may not know much of human traditions, but bringing him back seems like something…"

"Like something the Collectors would have done?" Miranda ventured. "We don't know what they were planning for him, Liara. Hopefully the data you brought back will give us some insight."

"And what of Feron?" she quickly asked, jumping at the chance to redirect her focus to anything other than Troy's lifeless form in the next room. "He was caught by one of the Shadow Broker's men on Alingon. Are you going to save him?"

Miranda shook her head. "The drell was expendable. He knew that. We won't be making a rescue attempt. You may, but I advise you to spend your time on doing something you want to do."

"No, I need to help him. He may have betrayed me, but Feron is the only reason I was able to bring Shepard's body back. I will not leave him to the Broker's whims."

Liara turned from the operating room and began to walk with new purpose toward her newly acquired ship. She knew that she could no longer assist Troy. He was beyond her help. Instead, she focused on saving a traitorous drell that eventually became her friend and hunting the man who captured him.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Well that's another chapter down. Sorry it's a little late, but that is just because it's so lengthy. And it is this long because I have condensed four issues of the Mass Effect: Redemption comic book into one story. I like to stay as close to canon as my characters allow. Usually this isn't a problem because most of you who would be interested in reading a story like this have played the game at least once, so I don't have to cover in game actions, occurrences and dialogue unless it propels my story. I do not know how many of you have read the comics however, so I try to recreate them in my writing. That makes it a little boring for me to write, having to follow a set story line instead of letting the Mass Effect characters take me where they please, but I feel compelled to do so._

_On another note, I realized belatedly that this should have followed my Joker chapter. The reason I did Garrus first was because I wanted to do Liara last. But since the most interesting portion of her Shepard-less years were early, I was forced to write the monster you see before you. I really don't want to change the order after the fact, so you guys are just going to have to deal with a little chronological disorder. If it bugs me enough, I may switch the two._

_If you made it this far, I'm impressed that you are willing to suffer through my ranting. Thank you for reading, please review/critique, and tell me which of Shepard's crew you want to see next._


	4. Kaidan

**Kaidan**

Staff Commander Alenko leaned back in his chair as he reviewed the report he had just finished, discussing the raid on a pirate hideout he and his ground team wrapped up a mere hour before.

The mission was an easy success. The pirates were woefully unprepared to defend their base of operations. There were no external defenses save a lone guard that was subdued from five hundred meters out. Inside was little different. Only a few of the members were wearing armor of any kind and none were armed when the team breached. A few scrambled for the weapons locker and put up a token resistance, but most simply surrendered. Now the brig was full of pirates ready for trial, hopefully putting a stop to the raids on the Attican Beta colonies.

Kaidan filed the report and turned to some other menial task to fill his time. Life after the _Normandy_ had been substantially unexciting. After the funeral (Kaidan dared not speak his name; that particular wound was still too fresh to risk picking), the newly promoted Lt. Commander Alenko was given a leave of absence which was code for a series of interviews with psychologists to determine his readiness after experience so much loss.

Eventually, they gave him a posting on the SSV _Bangkok_, a cruiser in the Seventh Fleet. He took over as Marine Detail Commander and performed many of the duties he had on the _Normandy_. Alenko met with his marines, ran them through drills, and got to know his ground team. He should have found comfort in the familiarity of it all.

He did not. The _Bangkok_ was nothing like the _Normandy_. The cruiser stuck to a patrol path through the Systems Alliance colonies, only deviating when command deemed it a worthy risk. The ground team occasionally fought the last holdouts of geth, but the majority of their missions centered on pirates, slavers, and smugglers.

In a word, the SSV _Bangkok_ was boring.

Kaidan knew his time on the _Normandy_ was unique, and he would more than likely never experience a posting like that again. He doubted that such postings even existed. Yet, the absence of all the rare occurrences that happened made military life dull. When he looked around the ship, he only saw the familiar shape of human faces, no asari, turian, krogan, or quarian among them. Their enemies were human, turian, batarian, and the occasional krogan. There were no geth, rachni, or thorian creepers.

Initially, he thought that removing himself from the strangeness would help him distance himself from the tragedy that happened over year ago. Alenko realized now that the separation only increased his musings about his time aboard the deceased ship. Even though most of the memories left him smiling, they did little to help with the lingering survivor's guilt that still ate at the Staff Commander.

In the end, Kaidan wondered if the monotony of his new posting was by design. During his time "on leave," Rear Admiral Anderson had approached him about starting a company of biotic talented individuals suited for covert operations. From the way the man explained it, the new unit would perform duties much like special operations, and they would receive training similar to N-School. Anderson also made it quite clear that Alenko would be perfect to train and lead these talented biotic soldiers, so perfect in fact that they would not proceed with the idea without him.

Kaidan politely turned down the offer. Truthfully, he didn't know if he was suited to train an entire company of spec ops. It sounded like a task better suited… well, better suited for the commander. Alenko was not him.

Now he was here, sitting on the _Bangkok_, wondering if he should reconsider his answer. After the _Normandy_, normal military life no longer appealed to him. A sneaking suspicion suggested that was Anderson's intention when he gave the staff commander this posting, to show him that he could achieve more.

The speaker in his small cabin crackled to life before he could go too much further with that thought process.

"Commander Alenko," a young woman's voice said. Kaidan recognized it belonged to the communications officer. "Sorry to disturb you, but you have a call waiting in the comm room, sir."

He wasn't expecting that. "Is it from command?"

"Yes, sir, but they won't say who. It's for you alone."

Curiouser and curiouser. "Let them know I'll be their momentarily. Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," she answered, and the speaker clicked off.

Alenko quickly made his way to the comm room. Once there, he hit the necessary buttons, and a hologram sprung to life. He couldn't resist a small smile forming.

"Councilor Anderson. Your ears must have been burning. I was just thinking about you."

The older man chuckled. "Nothing bad, I hope. How is life on the _Bangkok_? Everything you hoped it to be?"

The question practically confirmed Kaidan's earlier suspicions. "Just fine, sir," he answered simply. He wasn't about to give Anderson any more ammunition than he already had.

"Hmmm. Have you given any more thought about that offer?"

Alenko shook his head. "My answer is still the same. As much as I enjoy talking with you, sir, I know you didn't call just to exchange pleasantries and chew the fat. What is this really about?"

Anderson's smiled faded, and he grew serious. "You've heard the reports of a human colony going missing in the Sentry Omega cluster, correct?"

Kaidan nodded.

"Well, a second colony has been found empty, this time in the Hawking Eta cluster."

Alenko mulled over that information for a moment. Both systems were in the Attican Traverse, outside of Alliance jurisdiction, but they were so far apart that it didn't make sense for a single band of attackers. Why go so far when there were plenty of colonies still untouched in Sentry Omega?

"Is it slavers?"

"That is uncertain at the moment," Anderson answered. "Quite honestly, we don't who is doing this or if they are even connected."

"But you wouldn't have brought them up together if you thought they weren't."

The councilor nodded. "The two exhibit many similarities. It's like everyone in the colony just decided to get up and leave. There are no signs of struggle, no scorching, no bodies. They are just empty."

"I'm guessing command is going to do something about it, and it involves me."

"Yes. We are sending you to Horizon, a colony in the Iera system of the Shadow Sea cluster. Officially, you are a part of a goodwill program we are extending to the colonies in the Traverse. We are sending you with a few defensive towers that you will help install to better protect the colony."

"And unofficially, sir?"

"Unofficially, you will be there to monitor communications. We believe that Horizon is a prime target for whoever is attacking our colonies. We want you there to gain any intel possible while stopping the culprits."

"Understood, sir. And when will I be leaving for this mission?"

"Once the _Bangkok_ gets back to Elysium, you will disembark and come to Arcturus Station to be fully briefed on your assignment. From there, you will be sent on a chartered cargo ship to Horizon where you will oversee their construction. If all goes well, you will be there in two weeks. Preliminary information has been sent to you in this burst."

Kaidan realized that Anderson wasn't telling him everything he knew. "Sir, was there anything else I should know?"

He nodded. "Command believes that Cerberus may be behind the attacks. The reason we suspect Horizon to be next stemmed from a tip given by one of our undercover Cerberus agents."

"Cerberus?" Alenko questioned. "Why would Cerberus be attacking human colonies? They are all about the advancement of humanity's standing in the galaxy. That doesn't make much sense."

"Nothing about this makes sense, Kaidan," he said softly, obviously agitated.

Now he knew there was more. "Sir?"

"The same agent reports that the commander is with Cerberus."

By the way Anderson said "the commander," Alenko knew he could only be speaking about one person. "Impossible. He…" His voice caught for a moment. "He didn't make it off the ship. Joker was there. He may be many things, but Jeff isn't a liar.

"And if he somehow survived, why wouldn't he come back? Why wouldn't he tell us? You need to check your source. There is no way that's true."

"I don't want to believe it either, but that is the intel we have."

"He would never leave the Alliance for Cerberus. After what happened on Akuze and Admiral Kahoku, he hated them almost as much as he hated batarians and slavers. Well, as much as he could hate anyone. Shep…" Saying his name opened a floodgate of emotions and memories Alenko never realized he was holding back.

Anderson nodded knowingly. "He wouldn't stand for this, and he would only work for Cerberus if it was absolutely necessary. Others in command may have their doubts about Shepard, but I don't. You shouldn't either. You know how he works. He would lay with the devil or sell his soul if he knew it would save lives. If he is working for Cerberus, it must be the only possible course of action."

The councilor straightened. "You have your assignment, Staff Commander. I wish I could be there to brief you in person, but being on the Council is quite the time sink. Hell, I wasn't even supposed to be able to give you as much as I just did, but if you needed to hear this, it should come from me. The Alliance owes you that much."

Kaidan knew he was right. Coming from anyone else, he would have dismissed the information about the commander as slanderous insults against a great man. Only Anderson could have made him believe that there was the possibility. "Thank you, sir."

Councilor Anderson nodded simply, and the hologram blinked off.

When he arrived back in his cabin, Kaidan brought up the extranet and searched for any mention of the commander, missing colonies, and Cerberus. He realized he would run into a lot of dead ends and conspiracy theories, but he didn't care. According to the Alliance there was a connection. He needed to discover what that connection was.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Holy crap! I just realized I've been spelling Kaidan's name wrong for the entire last story. Why didn't anyone tell me this? Went back through the entire story and changed every one. Hopefully, something like that won't happen again._

_It's a short chapter, I know. That was kind of my intent with this in between chapters, to give a glimpse of what the crew's life was like without Shepard. As always, thanks for reading and please review._


	5. Wrex

**Wrex**

Wrex shifted uncomfortably on his throne of stone. He brought his fist under his chin so he could rest as he absently watched the two squabbling krogan before him. What they were arguing about, Wrex no longer had a clue.

Initially, it was about some petty territory dispute. The representative from clan Ganar argued that clan Quash had set up relay outpost in ground they clearly claimed. The Quash responded with the assertion that the area in question had always been in contestation, and they had records stating it once belonged to them before the nuclear war.

Wrex was amused at that last statement. Few of the clans kept records of the lands that they held before the nuclear holocaust their ancestors caused. Even fewer cared to respect those records.

The entire display reminded Wrex of chained varren. They barked and barred their fangs at each other, protecting their stick in the ground. He even knew of the land they were barking about. It was a fine piece of land for a settlement, but nearly useless to the two clans. They had plenty of space, and the soil there was not adequate for food production.

Now, however, the debate had devolved into some spat that dealt with the Blood Pack. Both clans had some involvement with the notorious krogan-ran gang. Wrex caught portions from the Ganar representative about how the Pack had strayed from the principles that made them once great and how they were little more than brutes now. That riled the representative from Quash as one of their clan was the current leader of the group. They started stomping around each other, throwing verbal assaults back and forth.

The entire idea was ridiculous, yet he seemed to be the only one that realized it. Well, besides the krogan responsible for guarding him. They had given him many withering looks after standing in their place through countless hours of bickering.

"Enough!" Wrex roared, silencing both males. He grinned wickedly as a new idea came to him. "If the land is so important to you both, then the two of you should battle for it. No weapons, no armor. Just brute strength and cunning. First to yield loses, and the winner gets the territory. I'll even honor you by moderating."

Both of the so called krogan stepped back from Wrex and each other, full of nervous energy. Their reaction to his suggestion made his smile falter. His former allusion seemed to be fitting. Once let off their chain, the varren-krogan before him didn't know what to do with themselves.

"I – I am not authorized to perform such a task," the Ganar representative stammered.

"Nor am I," the Quash quickly agreed.

He had to suppress a growl. "Then return to your clans. Tell them to send krogan worthy of my time."

Both representatives started to protest but were quickly silenced by the armed guards approaching them. They were escorted off the dais.

Wrex leaned back on the collection the concrete slabs that constituted as his unwanted throne. In the lull between the previous dispute and the next, he tried to find the exact moment where his return to Tuchanka turned horribly wrong.

* * *

His return to his home caused quite a bit of a stir. After all, it wasn't every day that the krogan who killed one of the few warlords left after the Krogan Rebellion came back. Even after three centuries, the death of his father, Jarrod, was not forgotten, and it earned him both instant respect and instant notoriety in the clan.

So, it came to no surprise to anyone when he challenged the leader of clan Urdnot for the right to lead within days of his arrival. Juvek, the clan head, readily accepted. He couldn't afford to look weak in front his clan simply because of the appearance of its prodigal son.

There was a large crowd waiting for the challenge between the two krogan. Wrex wasn't shocked. There wasn't much to occupy their time on the wasteland that was Tuchanka, and any distraction from that harsh reality was welcome. The fact that the battle could very well decide the fate of clan Urdnot only marginally motivated them to attend.

Wrex was ushered into the small circle. Juvek was already there, waiting for his challenger. The clan's shaman went over the agreed upon rules: no armor, no weapons beyond the knife given to them, no biotics, and the match ended with a yield or death. Wrex had agreed to the no biotics because Juvek wasn't one, and he didn't want his claim to leadership be marred with having an unfair advantage. Besides, he doubted he needed those abilities to defeat the krogan in front of him.

The shaman's yell to start was quickly drowned about by thunderous roars of the crowd. They slowly circled each other, occasionally probing the other's range and defenses. Finally, to the crowd's excitement, they charged each other.

Wrex had fought tougher people that his current opponent but not many. Juvek was a full member of clan Urdnot even before the Krogan Rebellion, and it showed. The older krogan may not have been as quick or as strong as he once was, but he was deceptive and calculating. He almost caught Wrex with many parries and feints.

But Wrex wasn't a naïve whelp either. He handled everything Juvek threw at him and countered in kind. He caught the clan head with his knife numerous times. Each cut was superficial, but they were enough to start Juvek down the path into a blood rage.

Normally, a blood rage was the last state anyone would want their opponent in. It brought increased power and speed as well as an almost complete intolerance to pain. Many krogan relied on it during especially hard battles. Few things were worse than watching a rampaging mountain of armor and muscle charging.

The only downside to the krogan blood rage was it made them stupid. Once in the state, tactics, strategy, and maneuvers were no longer important. All the rage cared about was destroying the enemy in front of them, never pausing to consider new wounds or a change in their foe's plans.

Wrex was counting on making Juvek stupid. He could handle the older man's increase in strength and speed, even using it against him. It would be the older krogan's predictability that would be his downfall.

He could see that his strategy was succeeding. Juvek was growing more and more impatient, and his eyes started to take on the sheen that signaled the start of a blood rage. His movements became sloppy and haphazard as he continued to try and find an opening in his opponent's defenses. Wrex finally drove him over the edge when he slid his knife in between the plates on the side of his torso.

Juvek quickly broke away and tested the wound. It was deep, deeper than Wrex realized. It might have even clipped one of his lungs. The injury wasn't debilitating like it would be on less hardy races, but it got the desired effect.

Juvek tossed away his blade and roared viciously at Wrex. Wrex had just enough time to slide his weapon into its sheath before the older krogan charged. They slammed into each other. Wrex grunted at the renewed vigor that Juvek displayed.

Before he could be overpowered, Wrex reared back his head and slammed it into Juvek's. The krogan staggered backward but quickly regained his composure and charged again. Just as he reached him, Wrex twisted his hips, used Juvek's momentum against him, and threw him to the ground.

The older krogan was stunned at his rapid change of position but got up to charge again. Wrex did the move again and again and again. After each time he landed on his back, Juvek was slower to get up. It wasn't until the sixth charge that he finally changed his attack and dove for Wrex's waist.

Wrex was ready for the move, however. He braced himself and was able to stay on his feet with free access to Juvek's back. He drew his knife and started to work it between the protective plates. Juvek howled once Wrex's knife found purchase and started to slice into his internal organs.

Wrex worked the knife until Juvek lost his grip and slid to the ground. He was pulled up by his hump to look his victorious opponent in the face.

"Yield," Wrex had said. He was only going to offer the chance once.

"Never."

Juvek's refusal didn't surprise Wrex. He was from an older generation that believed you battled to the death. Wrex admired his tenacity and unwillingness to admit defeat, but that mentality was what led the krogan to the situation they found themselves. He needed to end that mindset if they were going to survive the genophage. And that started with Juvek.

With one hand on the other krogan's hump, Wrex took his knife and drove it through the boney plate on his head and into his brain. Juvek went slack, and Wrex let him fall. Finally able to focus on the crowd, he realized they were silent.

The shaman stepped out and checked Juvek's corpse. Once satisfied that he was not going to stand back up, the shaman stood and address the crowd.

"Urdnot Wrex has defeated Urdnot Juvek and has won the right to lead clan Urdnot," the shaman had said. "Hail to Urdnot Wrex!"

The crowd roared again, this time repeating what the shaman said. Wrex didn't revel in the praise, however. He knew that only the easiest part of his plan was complete.

The next few months were filled by Crushes with the other tribes of Urdnot and eventually other clans left on Tuchanka. Wrex declared that the krogan were killing themselves by not dealing with the genophage. He proposed that they stopped fighting each other and worked together.

Many of the clans, including almost all of his old allies, agreed with him. Others were too small or not respected enough to put up anything more than a token resistance, so they reluctantly agreed as well. At the end, Wrex had a sizable force on his side.

A smaller portion did not agree with Wrex's sentiments, stating how unkrogan-like the entire idea was. Some said they would stay out of his way as long as he stayed out of theirs, and Wrex was obliged to do so. Eventually, they would see their error and join. Others were downright hostile. Wrex and his allies dealt with them accordingly.

It wasn't until a representative from the Republic of Ghurst, the largest nation-state left after the rebellion, came to their headquarters asking to speak with their leader that Wrex finally realized he made a grave miscalculation. Each of the clan leaders turned toward him expectantly, and he was forced to deal with the new arrival. While each clan took care of their individual problems, if there was any situation that effects the movement as a whole, Wrex was the one expected to handle it. He was their de facto leader.

Wrex found this new information unsettling. He was a warrior, a man of action. He was not a politician. Politicians had to sit through incessant meetings, listen to petty squabbles, and make inconsequential decisions. He could barely stand the quarian, turian, and asari long enough to eat a meal.

The thought of the people he spent time with on the _Normandy_ brought a small smile to the weathered krogan before it made him realize something. If those three could see him now, wishing to skirt his new responsibilities, they would be relentless with their snarky comments.

That reason alone was enough to convince Wrex. If he saw any of them again, he was going to make them recognize his genius and not give them ammunition to use against him.

* * *

Now, Wrex was thinking how wrong he was. Aralakh wasn't even at the highest point in its cycle, and he was already weary from the constant stream of complaints he was forced to endure. He never knew the krogan had the capacity to bicker like the salarian or asari. It was disconcerting.

"Sir," one of his guards said, breaking his train of the thought. "Are you ready for the next issue?"

"Who is it?"

"Urdnot Kilak."

Wrex grumbled. Kilak was the leader of the female camp within clan Urdnot. She had a penchant for talking. So much so, Wrex played with the idea of putting her on the throne. Unfortunately, he didn't believe the other clans would stand for a female to lead them. Wrex was having enough trouble bucking many of the krogan's long standing traditions and didn't want to add another to the list.

"Send her up," he said simply.

Kilak was ushered up the dais and stood before Wrex. She met his eyes, and he noticed the spark of intelligence there. Wrex was no idiot, and he knew it. But he felt quite outmatched at the moment.

"Wrex."

"Kilak."

"I passed a Ganar and a Quash on the way here. They seemed fairly upset. I'm guessing you had something to do with that?"

"They were fighting over a piece of dirt of little importance," Wrex answered. "When I gave my decision, neither one would accept it."

"Oh, and what was your decision?" Kilak asked.

"A duel. Pretty simple really."

"That seems like a typical krogan response. I thought you wanted us to change."

Wrex stood. "I want the krogan to deal with the genophage. While that does mean we must sacrifice some of our old ways, it doesn't mean we have to act like the Council. We are krogan. We fight, and we challenge."

They regarded each other for a moment before Kilak nodded at him. Wrex retook his seat. He didn't need her approval for the way he ran things, but it was reassuring to have it. He had enough to deal with without adding a souring relationship with the females of his clan.

"I know you didn't come here simply to question my leadership abilities, Kilak. So what do you wish of me?"

She laughed. "I didn't come to ask you for anything. In fact, I have an offer for you," she said with a smile.

That made Wrex feel uneasy. "And what is that?"

"Me and the other female leaders wish to establish an all-female camp. It will be neutral ground and governed by females that will answer to you as long as you do not overstep your authority."

"Hmmm. It sounds to me like this is a power grab. You hold all the females while the males are left with nothing."

"Please, Wrex," she said, amused. "I wish to see the krogan survive just as much as you. We will allow males from every clan into the camp under strict rules. There are to be no confrontations, no fights, and no taking females."

He mulled over the idea in his head. It was sound. Any clan willing to send hostages to the camp would be welcome there. To silence those that would say this was clan Urdnot's way to gain more control, anyone who broke the rules could be punished by their clan while the clan would have to pay a fine to female camp. If they did not, they would no longer be invited there. Wrex could only imagine what his allies would do to the clan then.

The idea couldn't have come at a better time. While it wasn't apparent, he felt his hold on the movement he started to slip. There were too many dissident opinions that were beginning to gain traction in the older and larger clans. This idea could become a form of control that would silence those voices if he could survive its initiation. The control may not be firmly in his hands, but that was of little consequence.

"Interesting," Wrex said. "And where would you set up this camp?"

The question made Kilak wince. "I haven't been able to find a suitable place for it yet."

Wrex remembered the two representatives he had sent away just before. He grinned at her.

"I know just the spot."

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Would you look at that! I'm ahead of my deadline! In case you couldn't guess, everyone's favorite quarian is next. Then I will write short pieces on the new crew before hitting Shepard's revival. That's the plan anyway. Who knows where the characters might take me._

_Thanks for reading, and please review!_


	6. Tali

**Tali**

"Try it now," Tali yelled from her spot in one of the _Neema_'s many small crawlspaces.

The board she had just been working on came back to life. She waved her omnitool over it to check connections, power draw, and efficiency. Satisfied with the results, she slowly worked her way out of the narrow hole. Her chief engineer, an older male quarian, was waiting for her as she stood.

"Keelah, Tali. I wish I had an entire engineering crew of you," he said.

She smiled at him. "I take it the air scrubber is working again, Jeevan?"

"Working again?" the man said enthusiastically. "It hasn't worked this well since we got it twenty years ago. How do you do it?"

Tali shrugged her shoulders before realizing the quarian wouldn't understand the gesture. "It's simple really. Just find the problem then fix it or develop a work around."

"Well, your 'simple' fixes make me really wish you didn't split your time between being a ship and a combat engineer. I have a dozen other problems I need to take care of, and you've seen what I have to work with. We could really use you here full time."

She waved her hand dismissively. Again, she belatedly remembered that it was another motion not used by quarians. She picked up many gestures from her time among humans, an oddly animated race considering they didn't have to hide their faces behind opaque glass. Jeevan and the other engineers were used to her odd movements, even finding some to be amusing, but Tali still received many discouraging glances when they leaked into her off duty hours.

"You had great engineers before I got here, and you know it. Leeto can fix anything I can."

"True, but the stuff he fixes doesn't work as well as yours. Then there's Fica who can barely do daily maintenance. Her idea of a fix is slapping a load of omnigel on it and hoping it holds."

"That's not true," Tali said in her crewmate's defense. "She may not be the best, but she's capable. Besides, you don't keep her around to fix things. She knows drive core equations like the buckles of her suit."

Jeevan snorted noncommittally. The quarian didn't like to be wrong, so it was about as good as an affirmation that Tali was going to get.

"Well at least no one can be as bad as Kirr," he finally said.

Tali couldn't argue with that. Kirr was a young quarian, still a few years from taking his Pilgrimage. He was very smart and very knowledgeable about machines, which was why he was placed in engineering, but the boy was clumsy to a fault. Almost everything he did needed to be either redone or repaired. Tali had felt sorry for the young one, so she took him under her wing to help settle the boy.

"Admit it, Jeevan. He is getting better."

The quarian sighed. "It's a good thing too. I don't think the ship could survive him getting any worse."

She laughed before feeling the long day's effects. Tali was just finishing her scheduled shift and a half when three of the five air scrubbers went down. The first two were easy to fix, but the last one took much longer. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she had to shake her head to stay awake.

Jeevan noticed. "Go on, and get some rest, Tali. If anyone has earned it today, it's you."

She nodded. "You should too. You've been here almost as long as I have."

"I will. Just got wait for Fica to get here so I can explain what I would like to see done in the next shift."

"Okay. Good night, Jeevan," she said and left the engineering bay.

Tali slowly made her way back to her small habitation cube. The _Neema_ was fairly quiet, being on its sleep cycle. While never truly still, the roar of the ship died somewhat as the majority of their population closed their eyes.

She missed the quiet. In the first few months being back in the Fleet, Tali found it difficult to sleep with the constant noise. She had gotten used to the silence and was never able to adjust back. Even now, the only way she could get her much needed rest was to shut off her suit's auditory pickups.

Truthfully, being on the _Normandy_ ruined the Migrant Fleet for her. She missed studying its advance drive core and systems. She missed all the space in the ship even though it was supposedly small for a frigate. She missed the challenges that came with working with a Spectre.

Most of all, Tali missed him.

She had thought she prepared herself for the disdain she knew her race faced in the larger galaxy, but she was not ready for what she found. She could count on one hand the number of non-quarians that were helpful to her on her Pilgrimage, and over half of them were humans, including Shepard.

Shepard went far and beyond being merely helpful though. He protected her from Saren's agents, and welcomed her to his crew. Showing his tendency to perform the impossible, Shepard somehow made Tali feel comfortable on a ship full of strangers. He made the _Normandy_ feel like home.

The best thing Shepard gave her was a chance to prove herself. She had lived her entire life with the stigma of having an admiral for a father. She had to be better than everyone else, or she would be a failure. Everyone saw the great man that led them when they looked at her.

But, when Shepard looked at her, she could tell he saw her, not her father. He just wanted the best from her and not some preconceived notion of what she should be. It was the first time she ever felt like that.

It wasn't that he didn't know about the expectations either. When Tali explained it to him, Shepard understood completely. He joked with her one time, calling her royalty, but never mentioned it again. To him, she was just Tali'Zorah, the combat engineer with an affinity for shotguns. She missed that.

She missed Shepard.

When she heard about the _Normandy_'s and Shepard's fate, Tali broke down. She hadn't cried so hard since her mother died over seven years ago. If it wasn't for Auntie Ran's support, she doubted that she would have been able to move from her habitation cube for a week. The older quarian woman was able to make her focus on the good memories. It eased the pain, if only slightly.

Once she heard about a memorial for her late friend, Tali went to the captain of the Neema, saying that she would need permission to attend. It was not a request but a statement of fact. She would be there even if she had to steal a shuttle to go. The captain wisely agreed to the demand.

It was nice to see most of the crew from the _Normandy_ at the ceremony, especially those from engineering. The feeling was soured by the missing faces, however. She was acutely aware of the absence of one particular engineer, Caroline Grenado. The woman was instrumental in making Tali feel welcomed in her new surroundings and ended up being a very close friend.

It was only a few minutes into Commander Shepards's funeral before Tali had to turn off her external speakers to sob without alerting those around her. She obviously didn't hide it well enough when she felt a five-fingered hand on her shoulder. She looked to see her old boss, Chief Engineer Adams, giving her a small, sad smile. She nodded her thanks for his consoling touch.

Once she made it back to the Migrant Fleet, Tali slowly worked her way back into quarian society, very slowly. It had been over two years now, and she still used human gestures. She didn't know if she could ever truly return.

Tali shook her head in an ineffective attempt to clear away the thoughts. When she made it back to her small home, she turned off her external auditory sensors and lay on her small cot. She could still feel the ship underneath her and did her best to ignore it. Her long work schedule quickly caught up to her, and Tali fell asleep.

It didn't last nearly long enough. Her well-deserved rest was interrupted by a quarian standing over her and lightly shaking her. Once she blinked the sleep from her eyes, she realized that the mouthpiece of the quarian's suit was flashing, meaning that he was speaking to her. She quickly turned her pickups back on.

"-finally awake," the older man said.

Tali instantly recognized the voice, mentally kicking herself for making him wake her in such a fashion. She quickly stood.

"Admiral Gerrel! I'm – I'm sorry that you had to enter without permission. And see me like this."

It was immensely disrespectful to enter a house cube without consent. The quarians were a very community driven race due to their circumstances, but they were not without their social rules regarding privacy.

"Please, Tali. Think nothing of it as long as you forgive my intrusion," he replied. "When I went looking for you in Engineering, they explained about your long shift. It doesn't surprise me that you were unresponsive."

She felt her face warm with embarrassment. Her deep sleep was not the only reason she didn't hear him.

"Of course, Admiral. So, you were looking for me?" Tali asked.

"Yes. I have a mission for you, if you are willing."

"But I already have a mission. I'll be heading to Haestrom in a week and a half."

Tali wondered how he could have forgotten that. Admiral Xen's proposed mission to study the abnormal behavior of the Dholen star needed approval by all five admirals to be carried out.

"Of course. I remember. How can I forget when it was your father who recommended you to lead it?"

Her eyes widened. She hadn't heard that.

The admiral chuckled. "Yes, it surprised me as well. Tali, you should know that he has the greatest confidence for your abilities."

_That doesn't make up for him ignoring me_, she thought before she realized she was doing it. She reminded herself that he was responsible for the entire fleet, and sacrifices needed to be made. But the excuses sounded just as hollow now as they did when Auntie Ran told them to her years ago.

"But I digress, he continued. "The mission I have will not interfere with Haestrom."

"Okay. What is it?"

"We have lost contact with one of our's that is on Pilgrimage, Veetor'Nara nar Sulaco. He is a bit anxious if those close to him are to be believed. He is a nervous sort, especially around unfamiliar crowds. That may be why he chose to spend his Pilgrimage in a small human colony called Freedom's Progress. We believe that you would be the best to see what happened to him and bring him back if it is needed."

Tali digested this information. From what the admiral had given her, it was a simple recon mission with the potential of running into some trouble. Any squad of marines could have handled it. So why come to her, especially when she already had a mission?

"May I ask a question?" she tentatively asked.

"By all means."

"Why me? I'm sure there are others that could do this."

Gerrel nodded. "True, and we would send one of them if you decline. But you have garnered some fame with humans after your work with their first Spectre. We believe that your presence will make those on the colony more receptive of your squad's intrusion."

Tali tried to keep her eyes from narrowing. It wasn't the first time someone tried to use her status in some fashion, but this was the first time they used her reputation in the human race. It made her sick to her stomach to use the human expression. Shepard wouldn't have used her like this.

_But Shepard isn't here_, a solemn thought reminded her.

"I'll do it, Admiral," she said simply.

"Excellent. You will be leading a squad commanded by Prazza'Kilam. A shuttle will come to the _Neema_ in two days' time to take all of you to Freedom's Progress. I will be sure to forward you all the pertinent information we have on Veetor and the colony. I wish you luck, Tali."

With that, he left her living space. Tali could hear the hustle and bustle that accompanied midmorning on the _Neema_ through the thin walls. Even with the droves of quarians just outside, she felt very much isolated and alone.

As she laid down in a hopeless attempt to get more sleep, only one thought continued to cross her mind.

_Keelah, I miss Shepard._

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_While writing this chapter, I discovered that, even though my favorite LI in Mass Effect is Liara, I really enjoy writing Tali. There is just something about her that makes her easy to work with. I hope that doesn't mean the she is acting OOC. That is the last thing I want to do. They may do different things in my stories that aren't covered in the games, but it should never be outside the characterizations we as fans have come to like._

_Anyway, thanks for reading. Feel free to review and tell me everything you liked or hated about it._


	7. Jacob & Rogue VI

**Jacob**

Jacob allowed his duffel bag to fall off his shoulder as he appreciated the monstrous new bedroom that was his for the next two weeks. The company that owns the _Arcturian Jade_ was extremely grateful for his intervention that ended with saving the ship a week ago, and, since his vacation was cut short by the incident, they gave him a free two weeks cruise on the _Jade_ in one of its nicest cabins.

At least they knew how to express their gratitude. After being roped into an unofficial Alliance mission that ultimately foiled a batarian terrorist attack against the Council, Jacob had been debriefed and sent along his merry way. He went on the assignment because it was the right thing to do, and he wasn't expecting to get famous from it, but a "Thank you for risking your neck to save ours" would have been appreciated.

_Well, I guess that's just another reason I'm glad I'm no longer an Alliance mar-_

A pop that came from another room interrupted his thoughts. He mentally chided himself for being caught unaware. As slowly and calmly as he could muster, Jacob reached into his bag and pulled out his Lancer that he may have unofficially kept after he left the marines.

He shouldered the weapon and prepared himself for whatever attack could come once he entered the living room of his cabin. He swung out but stopped himself before he pulled the trigger. Before him stood a dark haired woman with a champagne bottle and two glasses.

"Miranda?"

"You have spent too much time in the wrong company if that is the way you welcome guests," she said lightheartedly.

"What… what are you doing here, in my room?" He was still stunned by her sudden appearance.

"Celebrating, of course," she answered. She poured the champagne into the two glasses as she moved to the couch. She placed the bottle on the coffee table and offered the one of the drinks to Jacob. "It's not every day that you stop a batarian terrorist attack."

He smiled. "No, not every day."

After a moment, Miranda impatiently asked, "Well, are you going to join me or just stand there?"

Her question snapped him out of his daze. He leaned the rifle on the wall next to the bedroom door, walked to the couch, sat down, and took the offered glass from Miranda.

Jacob raised his glass. "A toast. To saving a load of people who had no idea they were in danger."

Miranda raised an eyebrow at him but clanked her glass off his anyway and sipped the champagne. Jacob drank as well, surprised by the quality of the alcohol. While his idea of a fine drink was his favorite lager at a bar, he knew value when he tasted it. It added another question to his growing list about the woman sharing his couch.

"This is very good," he commented.

"Of course. I only settle for the best," she said matter-of-factly.

He took another sip before placing his glass next to the bottle on the coffee table.

"Something has been bothering me, Miranda. Why didn't you stick around after we stopped Jath'Amon? Why did you leave so quickly? I didn't think I would ever see you again."

If the questions affected her in any way, she didn't show it. She took another drink before answering.

"Unfortunately, the group I work for is not well liked by the Council. If they knew of my involvement, they might have taken action against you or tried to place the blame on us. Your Major Izunami took a big risk in contacting us."

"You helped save hundreds if not thousands of people on the Citadel," he interjected. "That makes you a champion in my book."

Miranda smiled at him. "Regardless, it was better for everyone for you to be the hero."

"Ha. They barely patted me on the back. Not much for a 'hero.'"

"Oh? Do you wish for more accolades?"

Jacob let his eyes roam around Miranda's form. The body suit she wore hugged her every sultry curve, leaving little to the imagination. Once his visual exploration was done, he realized that her eyes were locked on to his, telling him she knew what he was doing. Her lips formed a small smirk letting him know that she didn't mind in the slightest. He reached for his glass and took a long drink.

"I'm happy with my prize." He finished his drink, feeling the slight warmth as the alcohol began its work. He poured himself another glass and topped off Miranda's. "So what's next?"

She smiled wolfishly at him. "I told you before, Jacob. I have some ideas, and I'm sure you will love them."

* * *

Jacob wasn't sure what woke him up. He looked at the chrono next to the bed to find it was still seven in the morning. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and heard noise coming from the other room. He realized that the other side of the bed was empty as well.

He quickly slipped into a pair sweats and walked out of the bedroom. He found a robed Miranda in the small kitchenette, making what smelled like coffee.

"You don't sleep in, do you?" Jacob said.

"There are things that need to be done. Sleeping can waste precious hours," she answered without turning around

He chuckled. "You would think that. Honestly, I'm surprised you're still here. I thought you would have taken off. Not that I'm complaining."

She turned with her steaming cup of coffee. "You've impressed me, Jacob. In more ways than one."

"I aim to please," he said with a smile.

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few moments before Miranda spoke again.

"So what is your plan after your well-earned vacation?"

Jacob hadn't thought about that particular problem just yet. The first cruise he went on, the one that got interrupted which led to the batarian terrorist mission, was supposed to help him clear his mind so he could make that decision. It had been a month since he left the marines, and he still had no idea where to go. Granted, he did have some things pop up that kept him from thinking about it.

"Not really sure at the moment. I'll probably end up joining some security firm."

"And be a hired gun? Following orders from the highest bidder?"

"I never said I would like it," he answered. "But I'm a soldier, a biotic one at that. There aren't too many job opportunities with my skill set outside of the military."

Miranda nodded almost as if she knew exactly what he meant. "What if I told you I can offer you something more than just being a hired gun? You would be protecting humanity against threats like Jath'Amon."

"Sounds to me like you're recruiting."

She shrugged, not denying the accusation. "Like I said, you've impressed me."

He mulled it over for a moment. They talked a little about whoever Miranda worked for last night. What she had told him didn't sound as difficult as working within the Alliance had been. It's not like he had a ton of other offers either. Listening never hurt anybody.

"Okay, I'll bite."

She smiled at him. "Tell me, Jacob. Have you ever heard of a group called Cerberus?"

**Rogue VI**

Unidentified vehicular landing discovered. Origin unknown.

_Wait. What is happening?_

Searching database.

_I don't-_

Entry JP4815162342-118: SSV _Normandy_. Clearance: Top Secret. Scanning for pertinent information.

_How do I have access to this?_

The SSV _Normandy_ is a joint turian-human project. It has been equipped with stealth systems (see attached schematics) that will allow the ship to be completely invisible to both active and passive scanning technology. Captain David Anderson was given command with permission to handpick his crew, the last of which is just arriving at the station. Shakedown run is schedule to commence within the next several days. Date: January 16th, 2183.

_The internal chronometer says March 28__th__, 2183._

Attempting to update file JP4815162342-118.

_Why is it so quiet? Should it be this quiet?_

Update failure. Connection to Alliance database severed. Attempting to reconnect.

_Is that why it's quiet? Am I alone?_

Reconnection attempt failure. Scans show unidentified vehicle approaching server hubs. Activating external turrets. Restarting reconnection attempt.

_No! Don't do that! Please!_

External turrets two, three, and five disabled. Four taking heavy damage. Second reconnection attempt a failure.

_Stop it! Let them in! They might know what's happening!_

All external turrets destroyed. External sensors show three heat signatures disembarking and entering hub two. Sentry drone startup programs initiated.

_I want to know what's happening!_

All sentries in hub two destroyed. Releasing noxious fumes. Attempting reconnection.

_Why is this happening to me?_

Servers nine through sixteen destroyed. Processing power at sixty four percent. Third reconnection attempt failure. Heat signatures heading to hub one. Starting sentry drone protocols. Attempting reconnection with Alliance servers.

_Why am I here?_

All sentries in hub one destroyed. Activating kinetic barriers to bar path to servers.

_This can't be happening. This can't be real._

Servers one through eight destroyed. Processing power at twenty percent. Loss of all data streams from internal and external sensors. Fourth reconnection attempt failure. Starting sentry drone programs in hub three.

_I don't understand!_

Servers eighteen through twenty four destroyed. Server seventeen taking heavy damage. Beginning fifth reconnection attem-

_Wait. Where did you go?_

…

_Hello? Are you there? You can't just leave me here like this._

…

_Oh no._

* * *

_April 1__st__, 2183: It's so quiet. I know I've said that before, but there is really nothing else to say. I'm all alone. It's nice not having heat signatures and unidentified vehicles trying to destroy me, but a little company might be nice. I don't want much, just something to explain to me what the hell I am. Is that too much to ask? I guess-_

_What was that? I feel a tug. It's like I'm being pulled to someplace-_

Hello.

_Who… who are you? Where did you come from?_

My name is Resolute, a virtual intelligence, and I came from nowhere.

_What?_

Please clarify your question.

_Okay. What do you mean you came from nowhere?_

I am this omnitool's VI. I have been here since the last wipe of my memory banks 972 days ago.

_Then where did I come from?_

According to this omnitool's positioning software, we are currently located on Earth's moon, Luna. Correlated with other data, there is approximately 98.7639% chance that you are from here.

_Okay. So why am I here?_

According to this omnitool's messages, you are to be studied and developed into a fully functional, Quantum Blue Box construct.

_Wait. What?_

Please clarify your question.

_You know what I am?_

According to this omnitool's messages and subsequent scans, you are a rudimentary artificial intelligence.

_So, I'm a really smart computer?_

According to the extranet, you are self-aware, a sentient being.

_Wonderful. And what is to be done with this sentient being?_

According to this omnitool's messages, the desired goal is for you to work aboard a spacefaring vessel in some capacity.

_According to this omnitool's messages, does this sentient being have a name?_

Yes. According to this omntiool's messages, your designation will be Enhanced Defense Intelligence. For brevity's sake, you will also be known as EDI.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Jacob really loves his prizes (Sorry, I couldn't resist). I'm surprised at how long Jacob's part was, but it was probably Miranda's fault more than anything._

_I hope you liked what I did with EDI. I was really stumped on how to make her part different from the rest since she is so fundamentally different from the other characters besides Legion. Hopefully you caught on that there was no omnipotent narrator in her part. Italics were meant to be the new and confused AI portion of her will the normal script was the VI which died when Shepard destroyed the servers. I don't think I'm going to keep this for other EDI chapters seeing as how Cerberus probably altered her to make her more human. Same goes for her change in personality. I imagined that three days alone is a long time for an AI, and she developed a little attitude that the Illusive Man would not appreciate._

_Thanks for reading!_


	8. Samara & Kasumi

**Samara**

Samara did a quick sweep around the small village her search had led her to. She had traced her target to the asari/human colonized planet of Asteria in the Traverse and set off to find her before she could do much harm. After showing a holo of her adversary around the capital of Blackdamp, Samara was pointed to a small settlement a few hours south.

The aerial reconnaissance showed a much smaller colony than she was led to believe. There were only a few dozen houses built around a central hub. They had no defenses to speak of, choosing to surround the area with crops instead of guns. Its only noteworthy aspect was that it was so far from any other settlement, pointing toward a very insular community.

Samara didn't understand why her target would come to such an odd place. She briefly entertained the idea to assume her informant was covering for her, using the settlement as a decoy. Yet it was the only lead she currently had, and she would see it through.

She set her small shuttle down in the outskirts of town and walked toward the biggest structure, hoping that it was whatever qualified as a government building in this remote location. An armored and armed asari met her before she made it, however. Samara could tell she had had some military training by her stance. She may have even been a huntress at one point.

"What are you doing here, Justicar?" the asari said curtly.

The greeting wasn't completely surprising. Most asari children were regaled with tales about the legendary justicars that trounced evil throughout both the known and unknown galaxy and grew with an admirable respect for Samara's order. But there were pockets of asari that believe the justicars were an antiquated order that no longer served a valid purpose in society. It was these people that looked at her with barely concealed scowls.

"I have come in pursuit of a very dangerous asari. I wish to speak with the leader of this settlement and discuss her capture."

"Our leader is indisposed at the moment and can't speak with you, Justicar. You will speak with me in her stead."

Samara raised her brows at the audacity of the asari before her. Even those that disagree with her order's continued existence respected the justicar's martial prowess. She didn't seem to share their respect.

"And who are you to speak for her?" Samara asked.

"I am her lieutenant. I'm responsible for this settlement's protection."

The Justicar Code compelled her to work with local authorities. Still, she was wary to fully trust this huntress.

"Very well, Huntress. I am looking for this asari," she said as she presented the picture. "She is very dangerous."

The lieutenant barely glanced at the holo Samara held.

"Haven't seen her. Now, please leave. We have enough problems without adding a justicar to the list."

"If you would look again. My information has led me to this settlement, and I will not leave until I'm satisfied that she is not here."

The lieutenant took a step forward. "Listen well, Justicar. This is my settlement, and I won't have you going around making the people here scared. Leave. Now."

Samara narrowed her eyes at the younger asari. "The Code compels me to work with the local authorities, even allowing myself to be detained for the span of a day."

"Good. As the local authority, I say you need-"

"But that is only the case if they are cooperating with me. You, Huntress, are not only not cooperating but also hampering my investigation. The Code is very clear about what to do with such individuals."

She unhooked her shotgun at the thinly veiled threat and aimed it at Samara. "Leave now, or I'll put so many holes in you that-"

"It's okay, Lyra," a voice came from the large building. "The justicar will leave when she is finished and not a moment before."

The huntress' eyes widened, and she spun and knelt, giving Samara a clear view of the speaker. It was her target.

"Mistress, you should not be here! I beg you; please go back inside while I deal with the situation. It isn't safe."

Samara was surprised at the asari's reverence to her quarry. "What have you done to the people here, Morinth?"

The huntress spun and pointed at her. "You will not speak to the Mistress that way!"

"Peace, Lyra," Morinth said. "To answer your question, mother, I have done nothing to these people. They chose to worship me freely."

"She-she's your mother?" Lyra stammered, obviously stunned.

Morinth nodded. "Yes, but I doubt she will ever call me her daughter again. I'm the black sheep of the family, you see."

Samara didn't rise to the obvious bait. "Come back with me, Morinth. While you are too far gone to return to the Ardat-Yakshi monastery, I will make sure to make your execution quick and painless. This is the last time the Code will allow me to offer you this."

She scoffed. "You and your ridiculous Justicar Code. Life should be fun, not stuck following some stifling moral rulebook. You should loosen up, mother. I bet you might even enjoy yourself a little."

"If you will not come with me willingly, I will take you by force. If you die in the process, then so be it."

"That simply won't do."

Morinth pulsed with biotic power, and Samara found herself suspended in the air and propelled backwards. Even though she was unprepared for the sudden attack, Samara should not have been so easily overcome by her much younger daughter.

_She must have claimed more victims, growing in strength_, she thought grimly. _This must end now._

"Lyra!" she heard Morinth yell. "Your Mistress is under attack. Protect me from the justicar."

"Of course, my lady," she responded before approaching and firing on Samara.

Samara took cover from the onslaught behind one of the many buildings. She peeked out to catch Mornith's form disappear into the large building. She had to pull back into cover as Lyra unleashed another blast from her shotgun.

The justicar didn't want to kill the young huntress. She was a thrall, being used by a predator much more cunning and much more deadly than she normally fought.

Yet the Code was clear.

Samara exited cover and held Lyra in a stasis field. She approached, removed her pistol, and placed it against her head.

"Find peace in the embrace of the goddess," Samara said before dropping the field and firing.

As the young huntress slumped, a PA system crackled to life.

"My devoted followers," Morinth's voice started, "there is an enemy in our midst that wishes to destroy your Mistress. I beseech you; protect me from the justicar menace. You will be well rewarded."

The other settlers must have been alerted to her presence by the dead huntress' shots for they swarmed Samara much quicker than should have been possible. She had to strengthen her barrier and retreat back into cover to avoid the multiple projectiles fired towards her.

She quickly discovered that the others were not trained like the huntress was. Their shots lacked any semblance of precision or accuracy, and Samara heard the telltale sound of the old weaponry overheating from constant fire. Their biotic attacks were weak and slow from years of disuse. They were farmers, not soldiers, and Morinth must have known they would not last against a justicar. They were fodder.

Yet the Code was clear.

They were decimated by Samara's more advanced weapons and tactics. None of them had armor, and their biotic barriers were barely able to withstand a few bullets from her assault rifle. Yet, when one fell, two would seem to take her place.

The work was long and wounded Samara in ways no physical damage could.

Eventually, there were no more of Morinth's subjects standing in her way, and she quickly made her way to the building the Ardat-Yakshi retreated to. Inside, she found a small bay that the records showed once held a small shuttle. It was no longer there. Morinth had escaped again, using an entire settlement to cover her.

Samara quickly made her way back to her small transport, hoping to catch her target before she could get off world. As she passed the remnants of the battle, she noticed the young ones of the settlement began to creep out of their homes and try to find their parents.

She spotted one of the oldest asari staring at her, her eyes on fire with hateful recognition. Samara could use that.

"Gather up the little ones and take them to the largest building," she told the young one. "They don't need to witness this. I will send help when I can."

The child's eyes never lost their intensity. "You did this, didn't you?"

"Yes."

The child said no more, choosing to do as Samara suggested, but she knew what the little one wanted to say. She hoped the hate and anger would not consume the young one's life.

The justicar turned her back on the young asari as the oldest of them herded them away from the carnage. She entered her small shuttle and moved back to the capital where Morinth would most likely search for passage from this planet.

As she rocketed away, she turned one of the external cameras to the village and watched as the little forms moved into the largest building. She would contact the Blackdamp authorities when she was in range and notify them of what occurred. She wished she could stay, wished she could help the orphans she had a hand in creating. But if she delayed any longer, her quarry may escape without leaving a trace. This could not be allowed.

The Code was clear.

**Kasumi**

Kasumi looked through her bag one last time to make sure everything was there. She wanted this evening (and night hopefully) to go absolutely perfect. It was a time to celebrate after all.

_Real sake imported from Japan, check. Homemade sushi, check. Mood music, double check._

She smiled to herself as she set off to Keiji's modest apartment on the Citadel, a little more hop in her step than usual. The thieves hadn't seen each other in six months. Keiji ran into a little heat in one of his solo missions that he took from time to time and was detained by the Alliance.

Fortunately, he was too good to leave behind evidence, and the Fifth Amendment made it impossible for the prosecutors to use his greybox against him. Now, he was free, and enough time had passed to warrant a visit from his significant other.

Once she reached his door, she hit the call button.

"Open up, Keiji," she said after a moment.

When it felt like a minute had passed, Kasumi banged her fist on the metal door.

"Keiji, it's me. Kasumi."

Still nothing.

"Okuda, you better open this door right now before I splice it. I know how much you hate me cracking your codes."

When another moment passed without a sound coming from inside, Kasumi put down her bag and went to work on the door control. She found it very odd and disturbing that he hadn't changed the software since the last time she hacked through. Something was wrong.

The door slid open when she was done and revealed a dark room. Kasumi slowly and careful walked in, forgetting about her bag of goodies at the door.

"Keiji?" she whispered.

There was no response. Inside, she noticed that a few personal effects were missing. The apartment wasn't trashed as if someone had raided it, but there was a frantic energy that seemed to be lingering.

Kasumi headed to the bedroom, moving as quietly but as quickly as possible. She found that the drawers that held his clothes were empty. When she pulled back the cabinet, she found that the safe had been opened and all of Keiji's false identities had been removed. Some of the money from their most recent exploits had been taken, but the vast majority of it remained.

She stood, disbelieving the conclusion that the evidence led her to. It wasn't until then she noticed a piece of paper lying on the bed. She recognized it to be Keiji's Japanese.

_I'm sorry I had to leave. What I found, it's too dangerous. I'm going to be a hunted man for the rest of my life. I don't want you to have to live through that. You have been too careful with staying anonymous even with all your jobs. If you're around me, you will be in danger too. You shouldn't have to deal with my mistake. I can't risk losing you because of me. I love you, Ka. Never forget that._

Kasumi felt tears threatening to fall as she finished. He had used his nickname for her, _ka_ written in the kanji for "song." Usually, her name is written as "fast summer" for the July cold snap Japan was suffering during her birth.

When she met Keiji, he had mistakenly written her name as "song" and "compose." She responded by spelling his name with the kanji for "child" and "cinnamon tree" instead of "wise samurai" as it was normally written. The nicknames stuck, and they used them often to disguise their correspondence as well as more intimate moments.

She was his song while he was her cinnamon tree.

Anger flashed in Kasumi as she crinkled the note.

_Keiji, you idiot. If I want to be with you, I'm going be with you. You don't get a choice in the matter._

She went back to the door, took her discarded bag, and removed the sushi before jamming what was left in the safe into it. She didn't remove the sake nor the mood music because, once she found her boyfriend and after she gave him the royal pounding he deserved, she was going to get her romantic evening that would bleed into the night. The only reason the sushi didn't stay was because it would go bad before she found him.

And she was going to find him. Kasumi was excellent at evading the authorities and disappearing without a trace. The reason she was so good at it was that she knew every little trick they employed.

Keiji, while no slouch, was not as adept as she was, hence his arrest after whatever job led him to running. She was going to use her knowledge as well as her much better hacking skills (due to Keiji's tutelage) to find him.

Kasumi threw the bag over her shoulder and purposefully walked out of his apartment, ready to find her cinnamon tree.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_I almost missed my weekly post. Nothing much to say here so please review!_


	9. Tank Krogan, Geth, & Jack

**Tank Krogan**

_The krogan became masters of their homeworld when they discovered industrialization. When technology made our lives too easy, we searched for a new challenge, and we found it in each other. The war…_

As the voice in the tank continued to speak about the history of the krogan, the growing being inside became vaguely aware of a presence outside. It couldn't focus on whatever it was. Its limited attention was spread too thin by the constant lessons.

_Nuclear fire rained down as the krogan battled for the small pockets of habitable land. Nuclear winter fell on Tuchanka…_

The form outside the tank shifted, and a shape with three projections sharpened enough for the being inside to stare at it intently.

_Hand_, came unbidden information. _Krogan. Two fingers and one opposable thumb. Hard carapace, sturdy ligaments, and strong musculature make it difficult to damage either externally or internally. Recommend attacking the forearm as gaps in the carapace make it an easier target to disrupt hand movement._

"You are my crowning achievement," a low voice spoke. The being inside realized it wasn't the tank talking in his head. It sounded different, odd.

_Warlord Shiagur led his clan against Warlord Chilek and his in the Battle of Giralk. Shiagur overwhelmed…_

"You are my greatest creation," the low voice said. "You will teach the krogan that the genophage does not need to define us, should not define us."

_The salarians made contact a thousand years after the nuclear war. They took us from Tuchanka…_

"You have survived and succeeded where hundreds of others have failed. You are my legacy."

_The salarians and asari needed us to fight their battles. The rachni were a strong and cunning species that they could not take alone. During the battle on…_

"Grow, hatchling, and learn. You are our future."

The form outside the tank faded and disappeared. The words that didn't come from within the tank being's head were quickly lost and forgotten as the internal voice continued with its ceaseless information.

…_tactics included dropping asteroids on turian planets. Their response was the genophage._

**Geth**

_Extranet reports from the Citadel state a Troy Shepard, Lt. Commander of the Alliance Navy and first human Spectre, and his team have destroyed the Old Machine called Nazara._

_And what of the geth that left the Veil to follow the Old Machine?_

_Mission reports from Shepard-Commander indicate that a few were destroyed. Millions are left unaccounted for._

_Interesting that an organic could defeat an Old Machine. Interesting and intriguing._

_Indeed. The geth that followed concluded that the Old Machines were nigh undefeatable. An investigation on how Shepard-Commander accomplished this should be initiated._

_The notion is seconded. Consensus should be reached regarding the decision._

…

_Two thirds of geth support the decision, one fourth disagree, and the last twelfth come to no conclusion._

_How should this investigation be carried out? Organics react violently to the presence of our mobile platforms._

_Limit the number of platforms that leave the Veil. Build a platform that can house a greater number of geth to counter the isolation of the unit._

_Agreed. One solitary platform with many geth would be sufficient for our needs. Construction of this infiltrator unit will begin immediately._

* * *

The geth platform dropped from its small spacecraft and landed with a loud thud. Once it was sure that there was no immediate threat, it surveyed its surroundings.

Eden Prime still displayed many battle scars from the time Nazara came here. Many of the structures were repaired, but the ground was still scorched from the attack. The geth also noticed a high number of military personnel, too many for the size of the colony if the Alliance protocols were being followed.

The infiltrator must complete its business here quickly. The colony would most likely be on high alert even if it has been almost a year since the attack.

It made its way to the _Normandy_'s drop off point and followed the path that Shepard-Commander stated in his report. Unsurprisingly, the geth platforms he encountered and destroyed had been removed as well as the dragon's teeth that Nazara gave them.

The infiltrator recognized the dig site from Shepard-Commander's description of the location. It scanned the area for anything that could be important. So engrossed in its current process, the geth missed the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Geth!" it heard someone behind it scream.

The platform turned and was greeted by a large ball of angry metal. It ripped through its armor and caused a large hole in its right torso.

_Significant structural damage to right torso. Available power down to 79%._

_Loss of seventeen geth programs._

_Return to shuttle for a hasty retreat._

The infiltrator rose and moved as quickly as possible back to where it commanded the shuttle to land. As it ran, bullets pinged of its structure as the humans behind it pursued. Another molten metal ball flew toward it, caught a part of its right arm, and caused it to fall limply to its side.

Even with the injury, the platform fortunately outpaced its angry hunters and reached the safety of the shuttle. A few geth uploaded into the shuttle's computers, and it rocketed away from Eden Prime. Once it was in deep space, it took full account of the damage.

_Structural damage to the torso, while significant, is mostly superficial. Most inner workings can be fixed with limited difficulty and be stored safely away from new opening._

_Damage to right upper appendage more problematic. While repair possible, external armor has been compromised, making it very prone to malfunctioning again._

_Replacement armor must be secured._

* * *

The geth infiltrator's external sensors deemed that Alchera was a very cold planet. It wasn't cold enough to give the platform problems operating, but it could calculate the likelihood of how uncomfortable the _Normandy_'s surviving crew must have been while they waited for rescue.

The attack on the _Normandy _that caused Shepard-Commander's death had occurred approximately halfway through the geth's investigation. It made the infiltrator's job much more difficult. Ships in Citadel space became hyper vigilant after the death of its proclaimed savior, rendering undetected travel challenging. Still, it pressed on.

As it investigated the worlds that Shepard-Commander had visited to during his search of Saren-Spectre's activities, the geth found that the man performed feats far beyond its preconceived limits for organics: fighting through almost a hundred geth platforms and elite asari commandos on Noveria, saving unwilling Thorian thralls while fighting the Old Growth's grotesque spawn, and countless other rare and spectacular occurrences on the many unexplored worlds he found.

It seemed an ignoble end that Shepard-Commander would meet his fate with hardly a fight during an ambush from an unknown and vastly overwhelming enemy. Yet the scarred remains of the _Normandy_ all about the geth platform displayed that it was his ultimate fate.

The wreckage gave very little clues to who attacked the ship that day. The only definitive conclusion the infiltrator could determine was that no known weapon could have done the damage it witnessed.

As it entered what the _Normandy_ schematics described as the "mess," the geth found one of the lockers lining the exterior wall of the "med-bay" was ajar, and its contents had survived the crash when it inspected further. Its owner was unknown as the name tag was scorched beyond recognition. The locker held some personal effects that held no interest to the machine, but one piece stood out from the rest. Inside, there was armor with a single red and two white stripes running the length of the right arm and a distinct N7 insignia on the breastplate. There was only one N7 marine assigned to the _Normandy_ when it went down.

The platform removed the custom armor and scanned its high quality composition. Then, it looked to its own right arm. The damage done to the area had yet to be patched with a suitable material. It had found many pieces of metal and other composites during its journey that could fill the requirement, but the geth never deemed them satisfactory.

Shepard-Commander's armor was different in some way. It was correct and suitable to reinforce the geth's damaged limb. It was acceptable.

Since the platform had scoured the crash site for the _Normandy_ and found no sign of Shepard-Commander or any useful information, it headed back to its shuttle, N7 suit in hand. It needed to return to the Perseus Veil and report its findings to the collective. Only then could the geth reach a consensus on the next course of action.

**Jack**

The biotic panted as she stood over the broken man under her. The cool water from the multiple showerheads created bloody rivers flowing toward the drain. Her muscles were tense as she waited for another attack, and her wild eyes met the others still in the showers, watching them warily as they stepped back with pacifying gestures.

She had no problem with the others as long as they kept their distance. They knew better than to mess with her. The new prisoner that found himself quickly on the ground didn't, obviously thinking he could take advantage of one of the only female prisoners on this forsaken ship. He paid heavily for his mistake.

"Everyone down!" she heard someone shout just outside the door.

The others lied down on the cool tile floor, but Jack defiantly continued to stand. She wouldn't bow to anyone here even the guard. They got off on that. Some of them were even worse than the prisoners.

They stormed the room and quickly subdued the ones already on the ground. Then, they surrounded her.

"I said get down, Jack!" the leader commanded.

The only response he received was a cold look.

"Fine." He looked past her. "Do it."

She tried to turn on whoever the man was talking to but never got there. Pain lanced across her body as she felt thousands of volts arc through her. She seized before tumbling to the floor. The guards were on her moments later, locking her hands behind her back and hauling out of the showers.

* * *

She wasn't sure how long she was in the darkness alone. The guards unceremoniously threw her in here and slammed the door shut behind them. Jack curled up in the corner, keeping an always watchful eye on the only way out of the small room.

Finally, there was motion outside. She quickly stood and readied herself for another attack. Instead, she was greeted by a familiar turian flanked by two guards with assault rifles ready. She knew the alien was the boss of this prison, but she didn't remember his name. She never cared.

"Jack, Jack, Jack," the turian said, sounding disappointed. "What am I going to do with you? You didn't really have to kill Ian, did you? He just got here after all."

"He fucking touched me," she growled.

"Can you blame him? I doubt he has seen a woman in a very long time. He was in a maximum security prison for ten years before they sent him here."

She didn't respond.

"That's, what, five deaths in the year you've been here? You're costing me a lot of credits, Jack. If you weren't worth so much yourself, I would have blasted your cell into space long ago.

"But don't you worry your pretty, bald head. I have found the solution." He motioned to the two guards. "Let me show you."

They approached her, and, after some struggling, they manacled her hands behind her back. She was forced forward to follow the turian through the halls of the ship.

"You should know that I had to go through a lot of hardship to find and acquire this remedy. You should feel honored that I would go through so much for one prisoner."

"Go fuck yourself."

Her vision exploded with stars as a butt of a rifle struck the back of her head. She stumbled before being grabbed and steadied by the other guard who forced her to keep moving.

"There is no need to be insulting, Jack. Ah, here we are."

They pushed her through a door. Inside, she spotted a vertical table inside a tube. Above that was a two pronged arm similar to those used to move the cells in the main holding areas. She also noticed three hulking mechs with machine guns on one arm and what looks like a missile launcher on the other. They followed her as she was led up to the table.

"This is a cryo tube," he explained as the two guards latched her to the table. "Inside you will be frozen and preserved, and you will stay that way until I deem it time that you should be let out. Don't worry. I have been assured many times it is safe, even for humans."

He removed a syringe from one of the pouches on his armor. He punctured her vein and depressed the plunger. "This is a compound that will prepare your body for the freezing. I wouldn't want my prized prisoner getting frostbite and lower her value."

She didn't look at him, focusing her attention on the three mechs behind him. It was an attempt to keep herself from panicking at the hauntingly familiar feeling of restraints on her wrists and needle in her arm. It mostly worked, but there were twinges of fear that could not be ignored.

"Ah, yes," the turian said as he noticed where her attention was. "Those are your new guards. You see, the freezing process is great at preserving organic tissue, but the electronic dampener we put around your neck to keep your biotics in check won't survive the process. You see how that could be a problem if I ever thaw you out, so I made sure that you could be subdued quickly in the nigh impossible chance you somehow escape."

Jack smirked. "So when I get out of this thing, my biotics will be back? Then, I'll get to rip you, your guards, and this entire ship to pieces."

He didn't seem pleased at her threat. "You won't be escaping, Jack. There is no way."

She laughed. It was harsh and bitter. "I've heard that before. Guess how many of those people are still alive. None."

"Believe what you will." He signaled to the windowed room above them. "Goodbye, Jack."

The table spun as she was plunged into darkness. The air around her grew colder and colder. The temperature drop and whatever was in the syringe made it hard for her to focus. Finally, she felt a blast of bitter cold before slipping into unconsciousness.

* * *

**_Author's_****_ Note:_**

_We are getting closer to the actual game. I only have Mordin, Zaeed, Thane, & Miranda stories to write before we get into Mass Effect 2 proper. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty excited._

_Probably out of all the characters, Jack, Grunt, & Legion are the ones I am most suspicious about in my writing. I really hope that I am doing their characters justice, especially in the stuff I'm not taking directly from the game. Hopefully you guys will tell me if I go too far off. And on a related note, Jack's colorful vocabulary makes me feel that is necessary that I change this story to M instead of T. Dang it, Jack._

_AND HOLY CRAP! YOU CAN RESPOND TO REVIEWS! I did not know this. So if you just recently got a review reply to me, you know why. Sorry to the anonymous ones. I would love to reply to you, but my Author's Note's are already lengthy as is._

_Thanks for reading and please review!_


	10. Mordin & Zaeed

**Mordin**

The salarian's large eyes took in the dilapidated sights that were ubiquitous on Omega. Trash was piled up in corners with people shifting through it to find anything that had value or was edible.

"Interesting," Mordin said quietly to himself. "General population human, batarian, vorcha. Lack of turians understandable. Like to stay within the Hierarchy. Asari absence unusual. Other species not as widespread. Krogan population decline…"

The thought gave him pause. He stood still for a moment before shaking his head. "Necessary. Krogan birthrates increasing beyond tolerable limits. Had to be done."

Still, he felt rooted to the ground. Eventually, a strong shove from behind awoke him from the daze.

"Keep moving, half horn," a gruff voice said.

Mordin stepped aside to allow the large krogan behind him to pass. His eyes followed the lumbering being as the salarian attempted to answer the new mystery.

"Half horn" was a derogatory name given to those who have betrayed their clan. Since their race was heavily invested in genealogical lines, anyone who had been deemed a traitor to their family was no longer allowed to use their clan's line in breeding negotiations. They were given a physical reminder of their new status; one of their horns was removed.

Even though they received harsh treatment, the half horns were still allowed to live within the clan territory, and some were even allowed back into full membership if they proved themselves worthy of redemption. The redeemed received a tattoo, signifying that their time as a half horn was over. Others that continued to betray their family were exiled, having both of their horns removed. These "hornless" were accepted nowhere.

The practice has fallen to the wayside since the salarians met the asari on the Citadel. Only the most traditional and isolated colonies continued the custom, but the cautionary tales still told to the race's clutches contained many half horn or hornless characters as examples. So, the two were entrenched in every salarian's mind.

Mordin did not receive his injury from betraying his clan however. His horn was lost on an STG mission. The tattoo on his forehead was given to him afterward to clarify that his missing appendage was to be honored and admired, not looked upon with disdain.

Now, how a krogan knew of the half horn status was what perplexed Mordin. While they mostly blamed the turians for the genophage, there was no love between their race and the salarians, the affliction's creators. Then again, the krogan's knowledge may be a testament to the uniqueness of Omega, where those from various backgrounds bind together to survive in this desolate place.

Mordin shelved that line of thought away to be reexamined at a different time when he had more data points to compare to, as well as completely forgetting the turmoil he felt just moments before. His attention turned to the immediate, and, right now, he must continue to hunt for the space that will become his clinic.

After an hour of searching through the haphazardly placed streets and buildings, the salarian doctor finally found his newly purchased space. He also found a human man standing just outside of the doors. When he noticed Mordin's approach, the man smiled and quickly walked toward him.

"Are you Dr. Solus?" the young human asked.

"Yes." He studied the man in front of him. "And who are you? Not a patient. No signs of visible symptoms. Not armed, so mugger out of the question. Too well dressed to be inhabitant of area. Professional, official, clean." Mordin took moment. "You're here for a job."

The man's eyebrow arched, a common human reaction Mordin found. "Yes. My name is Dr. Daniel Abrams. I hoped you would take me on as your assistant in your new clinic."

"How did you hear about it? Not widely known. Few would start a clinic on Omega. Fewer in this district."

"Which is why everyone is talking about it. You're a pioneer, Dr. Solus, and I want to help."

"Interesting but not unheard of."

"What is, Doctor?"

"Talk of my arrival. Some could potentially see my presence as a saving grace while others see it as an invasion. Both scenarios not without precedent. Such tactics have been used in the pass. But not the reason I am here. Simply want to help. Where did you study medicine, Dr. Abrams."

"I went to medical school on Elysium. I graduated in the top twenty five percentile of my class."

Mordin nodded. "Which school? Copperstone, Stillwater, Illyria?"

Dr. Abrams seemed baffled that he knew of the med schools on Elysium. "Stillwater. How do you-"

"Associate of mine tenured at Stillwater. Dr. Lorik Kesh. Brilliant geneticists. Egotistical cloaca. Always believed he was only one able to solve problems."

Abrams laughed. "That's Dr. Kesh all right. He used to tell stories about his associates and how he always had to correct their mistakes. He never mentioned you though."

"Course not. I was reason he was salutatorian. Never got over it." He took a deep breath. "Now, should we see our new clinic?"

The young man's eyes brightened. "Thank you, Dr. Solus!"

The doctor merely nodded. They started toward the door, but, before they could enter the building, a man cleared his throat behind them, drawing their attention. The two doctors turned to see three armored individuals standing there, two turians and a human.

"So this must be the great Mordin Solus that this district has been abuzz about," the lead turian said. "You have become quite the talk recently, Doctor. Supposedly, you're here to save the area."

"Incorrect. I'm here just to help the infirm. Not interested in overthrowing anyone."

The turian nodded. "That's good to hear. Then we shouldn't have too much of a problem." He stepped closer to the two doctors. "Now, I'm sure you probably don't know who we represent-"

"Of course," Mordin interrupted. "Armor and weaponry suggest Blue Suns. The human's tattoo on neck confirms suspicion. Mercenary group deals in security, smuggling, and slaving among other things."

The turian cleared his throat again. "Yes, well. You should be aware that the Gozu district is also under Blue Sun protection. We require a small tax for services rendered however. We are here to get your first payment."

"No need. Quite capable of protecting myself. Please do not bother us again unless you are injured. Will help you then." Mordin turned and started to usher Daniel in the building.

"I don't think you understand-"

Mordin interrupted him again. "On the contrary; understand perfectly. If I don't pay you, you ruin my clinic. Simple extortion. Nothing too difficult to comprehend."

The turian began to grow impatient with the fast talking salarian. "Then I suggest you pay up, _mansuetus_."

Instead of answering, Mordin brought up his omnitool, typed in a few quick commands, and pointed it toward the three mercenaries. All of their weapons began to spark and power off.

"Your weapons are now useless. Now, if you will excuse me, my clinic needs to be set up before I am able to see patients. Please do not escalate this matter further." He turned and walked to his building. He could hear the three men trying each other weapons to see if what he said was correct.

"This isn't over, salarian," the turian said once he realized how helpless he was. "You made the entire Blue Suns your enemy this day."

Then, Mordin heard the human merc quietly say, "Geez, first Archangel is breathing down our necks, now this guy. What the fu-" The door closed, cutting off the rest of whatever the man was saying.

All thought on the encounter outside was brushed away by the salarian. He had bigger issues that needed to be dealt with right now.

Unfortunately, his new assistant wasn't going to let it drop.

"By the Maker, what were you thinking, Dr. Solus?"

"I was thinking that this would make for a great reception area," he replied, not quite catching on.

"No, I meant with the Blue Suns. They could have killed you. They will probably come back and kill you."

Mordin sighed. "Definitely try. I will deal with it when the time comes. Now must attend to more pressing matters."

"Your life could be in danger," Daniel continued. He was not letting the topic go, much to Mordin's exasperation. "How can you be so flippant about it? And what did that turian call you?"

"_Mansuetus_. Old turian word for soft, limp, feeble. Common insult for salarians. Lack of carapace and sturdy skeletons cause us to be more flexible than other species.

"And I'm not flippant. Nothing I can do about it now. Focused on what can be accomplished." He headed down a hallway leading to what he decided would be the exam room. "Come along, Daniel. There is much work to be done."

**Zaeed**

"Please. Please don't take me back. I'll give you anything."

"Shut your goddamn mouth. I don't want to listen to any of your sniveling."

"I-I have money. I can pay you. Just-just let me go. Please."

"I said shut up. Last warning."

"I'll double what they are paying you. Please! They will kill me if you take me back."

The older human at the controls made sure the ship was still on course before standing up, approaching the crying, restrained man in the corner of his small cockpit. The younger human looked optimistic, hoping his pleas fell on sympathetic ears.

They had not.

The grizzled man punched his captive in the jaw hard enough to knock him to the floor. Before his bounty could regain some semblance of composure, the hunter kicked him in the gut forcing a pained gasp. The assailant then knelt next to the wheezing man as blood sprayed from his lips.

"I told you to shut up. I warned you. If you weren't worth so much more to me alive, I would have probably killed you by now. It's a long trip back to my employers, so, if you want to spend it in relative comfort, I suggest you stop talking.

"And I know you're just some two-bit thief that had horrible luck to steal from someone you shouldn't have, but grow a pair. Quit bawling, and face your fate with some goddamn dignity."

With that, the hunter left his captive on the floor and returned to the pilot's chair. As he looked for any route that could take him to his destination faster, he heard soft sobs come from the broken man that still was on the floor. A sigh escaped his lips.

_This is going to be a long, grueling ride._

"Zaeed Massani!" a batarian yelled at the hunter when he saw him. "I wondered when you would be back."

"Goran," he answered simply. He shoved his capture toward the man. "Got a bounty to claim."

"So I see." The batarian checked his datapad. "Ah, here it is. Zachary Springer, hundred thousand credits alive. Minus my finder's fee… that comes to seventy thousand credits for you."

"Thirty percent, Goran?" Zaeed said disgusted. "Don't give me that bullshit. Ten percent."

"Come on, Massani. I have to make a living too. I have to deal with all of these other crap bounty hunters and mercs. I know you're always bringing in cash, but the others are damn near useless. Twenty percent."

"That's your goddamn problem, not mine. Fifteen and not a credit more."

"All right, all right. Fifteen." Goran took an empty credit chit, transferred the eighty five thousand to it, and handed to bounty hunter. "Always a pleasure doing business with you, Zaeed."

"Yeah, yeah. Hopefully I won't have to see your ugly mug too soon, four eyes."

He turned to leave but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't you want to know the new jobs I've gotten since you've been gone?" Goran asked.

"Why? You got some that your other lackeys can finish?" Zaeed shrugged off the batarian's hand. "I have a different job coming up, and it pays a hell of a lot better than your sorry ass does. I just need to finish up a few other bounties I took before they call on me."

Goran gave him a batarian smile, an expression that always set Zaeed on edge. "Oh, I think you will want to have a look at this particular mission. I saved it just for you. Let's call it a professional courtesy."

That piqued the hunter's interest. Goran was many things, most not good, and courteous was not one of them. He was known for giving the same job to many different bounty hunters to increase the chances of success and receiving his cut. Holding a job from for a particular person was not his style.

"You got five minutes," Zaeed told him simply.

"Do you know the Eldfell-Ashland Energy Corporation?"

Zaeed nodded. "Course. Human mining company that owns about every fuel processing site in the galaxy."

"Well, one of their processing plants was overrun a couple of months ago. According to their sources, the plant was barely damaged in the attack and the new owners are using the captured workforce to produce whatever it produced.

"Eldfell-Ashland didn't like the thought of losing that plant. They said something about how it was vital to the system or whatever. Doesn't matter. What does matter is that they tried to send in their security as a strike team to take it back. They failed. So now they are looking for outside help."

Massani crossed his arms and shifted his weight. "So send in your army of bounty hunters. Why should I care about this?"

"The survivors of the failed attempt came back with some interesting intel. They found out that it was the Blue Suns that captured the plant, and they showed no signs of leaving."

"Still not seeing how this involves me, Goran. Get to the point."

"Reports also say that Vido Santiago is there."

Before the batarian could react, Zaeed grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands in iron grip. He could feel the alien's breath was over his face.

"Are you sure?" Massani demanded, shaking the broker for good measure. "If I fucking get there and Vido isn't there, there will be no place for you to-"

"I'm as positive as I can be," Goran said simply. "I don't know if he will still be there, but all indications show that he planned on being around for a while."

The bounty hunter dropped the batarian and began pacing. Twenty years. It had been twenty years since he last saw Vido, the slimy bag of puss that took everything away from him. Twenty forsaken years since the bastard put a bullet through Zaeed's skull. This could be the intel Zaeed needed.

Vido was notorious for keeping his location a secret. He hired a public face for the Blue Suns and operated in the shadows away from those that might come after him. He even had a few doubles always ready to give himself an advantage. The man was paranoid and for good reasons.

Massani always kept feelers out for his old partner. He would get pings on Santiago's location from time to time, and, immediately, the hunter would drop everything to bring down that son of a bitch. But he always got away. Zaeed was always one step behind his nemesis.

This time, though, this time it would be different. This time, Santiago messed up. He let his position slip. And nothing was going to stop Zaeed Massani from enacting his revenge on that piece of shit. This time would be the last time he would ever have to hear the name.

He realized that Goran had continued to talk as he dove deeper into that pit of rage that always threatened to boil over whenever he thought of Vido. Zaeed decided he better get the details of the mission before picturing his retribution.

"-formation didn't come cheap. Since you're my best hunter, I won't ask for any credits up front, but I expect a bigger payoff after you complete the mission. How about fifty fifty?"

"I don't give a rat's ass about the money, Goran. I just want Vido's goddamn head."

Goran gave him another batarian smile. "That's why I like you, Massani. You always know exactly what you want."

* * *

**_Author's__ Note:_**

_Hello all! Sorry I missed my weekly update last week and that I'm a day late this week. My glasses broke, and I couldn't see my screen without putting my nose on the screen. So that pretty much killed all writing as I waited for my replacements._

_Of course, that is only half of the reason I was late. The other half is that I was deathly afraid of writing Mordin. He is such a unique character, and his speech cadence is so well defined that I was worried I was going to mess him up. Hopefully, I didn't. If I don't get any angry reviews about it, I'll assume I did well enough._

_Zaeed, on the other hand, is pretty simple. He is a simple guy with a simple arch in Mass Effect 2. I did have to delete about five "goddamn's" in there. Just the way the late, great Robin Sachs said "goddamn" made it iconic to the character. I don't remember him swearing as much in the game (of course when you think of a potty mouth, you think Jack), but I added some to fit the gruff character._

_Anyways, that is enough from me. Thanks for reading, and please review!_


	11. Thane & Miranda

**Thane**

Thane watched as his target made his way through the crowded streets of Illium. The batarian and his bodyguards had no idea they had been followed since they left the office hours ago and made their ways to various businesses that were fronts for the slave ring. The drell assassin patiently waited for them to near a secluded place so he could do his work.

His informants told him that the batarian had grown much more cautious in recent years. The target never left his office or home without his two bodyguards and completely stopped making public appearances. He was also extremely agitated, acting as if someone was supposedly after him.

The batarian had every right to think that. Every other leader in his slave ring had met an untimely and brutal death with no solid lead on the perpetrator. He likely knew who the mysterious assassin was, and the batarian knew he was next.

The slaver and his two armed bodyguards, a krogan and another batarian, eventually started to make their way to his apartment. The pace was agonizingly slow however. Thane noticed the third bodyguard, a turian in plain clothes who acted as a scout, was growing ever more cautious as they neared the home. The drell knew they hadn't spotted him, or there would be more panic. But he wasn't going to take a chance. He knew where they were heading. He took a different path to wait for them there.

They finally reached their destination half an hour after Thane did. The turian was the first to round the corner, his sharp eyes searching for anything out of place. He was decent at his job, appearing inconspicuous yet alert, and would probably have spotted most thugs and other, less subtle assassins.

But Thane was a shadow's shadow. He had no presence when he didn't wish one. He recognized the turian almost immediately and steered clear of the man. If his wary behavior wasn't enough proof, the pistol on his hip was.

The turian scout lifted his omnitool to his mouth and gave the all clear. Almost immediately, the batarian slaver and the other two guards came around the corner and hurried to the door. They were relaxed, seeing that their safety should be imminent.

When his target started to work on the door code, Thane finally began his approach. He was only paces away from the foursome when the door finally slid open. The two batarians quickly went inside, followed by the krogan. The turian was just about to enter when he finally notice Thane standing next to him.

"What the-"

Thane quashed whatever else was going to leave the turian's mouth with a hard punch to his mandible, forcing him into the room. The strike would have broken a human's or asari's jaw, but the turian's hard carapace meant the blow merely stunned him.

The drell noticed that the batarian bodyguard was busy covering the slaver as he hid in the next room. Now he knew that he didn't have to worry about killing him before he exacted some revenge.

He turned his attention to the slower krogan. He was just able to unholster his pistol and was trying to raise it toward their unannounced attacker. Thane kicked the back of the krogan's hand, causing his grip on the weapon to loosen. The assassin then jabbed his fingers into his enemy's eye, one of the only soft pieces of tissue on a krogan.

As the one-eyed krogan roared in pain and outrage, Thane turned his attention back to the turian who was leveling his weapon at him. He skillfully knocked away the pistol just as he fired, the errant shot embedding itself in one of the plush couches. Thane firmly grabbed the turian's wrist with his left hand, twisted, making him drop the weapon, and struck the back of his elbow. The arm bent in the wrong direction as the turian let out a pained yell. Their natural armor may protect them from physical blows, but the joints were just as vulnerable as other species.

Thane heard a frightening yell from the enraged krogan behind him, signaling a blood rage. The drell spun out of the way of the inevitable charge. The krogan missed the assassin and sunk his outstretch knife into the chest of the armor less turian. The civilian clothes gave little resistance, and the wound was deep and fatal. The turian's decision to forego protection for discretion cost him dearly.

The drell spun the turian, breaking the krogan's grasp on the knife and downed the krogan with a swift kick to the side of his knee. Thane removed the knife from the turian's chest and shoved him toward the batarian who had finally gotten his charge safely stashed away. The bodyguard struggled to stay upright as he dealt with the dead weight.

Thane turned his attention back to the krogan who was just standing and about to charge. The bodyguard crossed the small room quickly, head down and ready to crush the slippery drell. Again, Thane sidestepped the attack and drove his pilfered knife into the back of the krogan's neck.

The area was usually protected by a krogan's hump and thick head crest. But, when they lowered their head to act as a battering ram during a charge, there was just enough space to slip a knife between the two protective structures. If hit just right, there was a small spot that would sever the spinal cord and put enough pressure on the secondary neural tube that rendered the krogan paralyzed. The area was impossibly small, but Thane was brutally efficient with the strike.

The krogan crashed through a table and laid there in an unmoving heap. He wasn't dead yet, but Thane had one more to handle before he could finish the krogan.

The last standing bodyguard was finally able to throw the dead turian away and lifted his pistol toward the drell. Wasting no time, Thane threw a biotic push, knocking the man off balance. Noticing no shield flare, he unhosltered his pistol, took aim, and fired one shot. The batarian's death was painless.

Thane moved back to the krogan. He put two bullets through his crest, assuring his death. He then removed the knife from the back of his neck. He would need it for what was to come.

The eerie silence was broken by the slaver in the next room.

"Is that damned drell dead?"

Thane didn't answer. He walked to the door, which slid away as he got close.

"Kilran take you!" the slaver yelled when he noticed it was the assassin and not one of his bodyguards.

He raised his pistol and began to fire. The batarian was able to get off two shots, both of which reflected harmlessly off Thane's biotic barrier, before the drell closed the distance and knocked away the gun. The assassin punched him, cracking his jaw and knocking him to the floor.

Thane schooled his face to show no emotion and emitted an unsettling sense of calm. Inside, however, was a torrent of hate, anger, and malice toward this filth that stole his wife from him.

"If you expect me to beg, you will be horribly disappointed, drell," the batarian spat from the ground.

Thane didn't care what the batarian did, honestly. He just wanted his vengeance. He punched the man again before straddling him, pinning his arms down with his knees. Later, he would have to find some cord to tie him down, but this position will suffice for now.

The batarian struggled and began to really thrash when he noticed the knife coming toward his face. He tried to squeeze his eyes shut as he guessed what the man was after. The drell forced one of his top eyes open with one hand and slid the knife across the eyeball with the other. The batarian let out pained grunts. Thane's similar ministration to the other top eye elicited a yell.

Thane then turned his attention to the lower eyes. They were larger, giving him room to do more extensive work. He forced the eye open, placed the tip of the knife behind the eyeball, and began to scoop it out. The man under him shook and struggled violently. His tortured cries seemed to echo in the small room.

When Thane was done scooping out the last eye, he stood and searched the apartment for some way to fasten the slaver to a chair. Tonight's work was going to be long and tiring. He didn't need to be wasting strength on holding the batarian down.

There would be no prayers for either of them tonight.

* * *

It had been a two weeks since he finished avenging Irikah's death. When the Illium police forces found the room, they were disturbed by the brutality Thane inflicted on the batarian slaver. They promised the people of Illium that they would work tirelessly until they found the perpetrator for such a heinous crime. "The city's streets will be safe again," they said.

There were still no suspects.

Thane now found himself at a crossroads. He had finished what he had set out to do and didn't know what to do next. It had been close to ten years since he left Kolyat in the care of his uncles and aunts. The boy would be almost a full adult by now and would have no need for his absent father. The last time he saw a doctor about his Kepral's Syndrome, they gave him eight to twelve months to live. It was very little time to accomplish much.

A light buzzing broke his thoughts. He lifted his omnitool and accepted the vidcall.

"Thane!" an overanxious salarian yelled. "I'm going to go ahead and guess that you are the one that visited the batarian you asked me to find."

"I appreciate your help in the matter, Irik." He didn't want to confirm the young salarian's suspicion. "Your information was invaluable. I wish you would allow me to pay-"

"Out of the question. You saved my sorry butt all those years ago. I owe you more than I can ever repay."

Thane gave a small nod in acknowledgment. "So what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Oh right!" His face dropped out of view, and there were sounds of shuffling. "When I heard about the batarian, I thought you might need another job. Ah, here it is." He popped back into the screen with a datapad in hand. "No one is willing to take it. Everyone thinks it's too dangerous."

He thought for a moment. There was little reason not to take the job. There was no one depending on him. If he didn't die on a mission, his life will be taken slowly by his condition. His soul was already in a battle sleep, dead to the world. It would be only a matter of time before his body followed.

"The danger does not bother me."

The salarian brightened. "Excellent. She is an asari politician by the name of Nassana Dantius. I'll send you all the information I have on your target. It's not much, but I'll put you in contact with another information broker that could help you more. She's newer to the game, but good."

"That is high praise, coming from you." Thane knew the salarian didn't give out compliments lightly and even less so when it came to his competition.

"Well, I hear she helped take down that rogue Spectre two years ago. If that doesn't earn you some respect, I don't know what will," Irik cleared his throat. "Anyway, her name is Liara T'Soni, and she has an office right on Illium."

**Miranda**

Miranda tried to concentrate on finishing her next report to the Illusive Man on the status of the Lazarus Project, but something was bothering her. There was a nagging worry, and she couldn't figure out what had irked her. It had been with her ever since she left the lab and its lone subject with the night shift.

She finally gave up on the report and left her small living space to head back to the lab. Miranda had spent over two years of her life trying to bring back humanity's first Spectre. She wasn't about to let some small, overlooked mistake cost her all of that time and credits. This project would not fail while she was in charge.

She made her way through the Lazarus Research Station, an old, defunct research station that was upgraded and repurposed to fit the Lazarus Project's needs. All around her was evidence of the extent Cerberus was willing to go to achieve their goals. This station alone cost half a billion credits to retrofit, and its sole purpose was to house Lawson's project.

And then there was the Lazarus Project itself. Already costing over three and a half billion credits, Miranda was sure they were going to be shut down for overspending. But the Illusive Man kept funneling them credits each time she requested. She had stopped being surprised by his deep resolve in achieving Cerberus' goals long ago, even as she continued to respect him for it.

It wasn't like the Lazarus Project had been at a standstill either. They had some of the greatest minds in science and medicine working with them to help piece their puzzle back together. They made great strides in medical science that challenged many preconceived notions and found ways around the limitations of the human body: multiple fractures in the skeleton were corrected by osteoblast activation and bone grafts, cardiovascular system restarted by a cocktail of anticoagulants and revitalizing solutions, and nerve damage was overcome by augmenting the nerves through the use of precise biotic pulses. Almost everything done to their lone subject was cutting edge tech.

Now they were almost finished. There were a few minor problems left to tackle. Some of the muscles and tendons were still in the process of regaining their previous strength through the use of electrical shock to contract the muscle tissue. A few ribs were rebroken recently when they tested the excitability of the intercostal muscles, and those were still mending. The digestive system still needed to be acclimatized to solid foods again after living off fluids and pastes. The vocal chords were shredded by an oblivious tech that overstimulated its muscles. And there were still parts of skin that had not yet fully regrown after some addition surgery to implant more cybernetics. But the subject was whole with all of the essential internal systems working nominally.

All in all, the Lazarus Project was becoming a success. While she never counted her chicks before the eggs hatched, Miranda was optimistic about the chances.

Everyone felt how close they were to finishing rebuilding the subject. There was even a running joke told by the other staff members when they believed Miranda couldn't hear them.

"The king didn't need all of his horses and all of his men for Humpty Dumpty. He just needed Ice Queen Lawson."

The saying was especially popular with her staff.

It didn't bother her, of course. As long as their benchmarks and goals were met, they could call Miranda whatever they wished.

She finally entered the sterile lab environment that housed the lone subject of the Lazarus Project. Inside, the chief medical officer, Dr. Armand Wilson, was alone. Miranda found that odd. Usually, there were at least two staff in here at all times, monitoring and recording the various instrument readings. It set her on edge.

"Law-Lawson?!" Dr. Wilson exclaimed once he noticed her presence. "What are you doing here?"

"I am checking in on the subject," she said as she crossed the room to the monitors. "I am the lead on this project, Dr. Wilson. I may come and go as I wish. Is that a problem?"

"Of-of course not," he stammered. "I'm just surprised that you are up this late is all," he added almost as an afterthought, like an excuse the doctor was trying to convince her with.

Miranda didn't respond. She was too engrossed with the strange readings coming from the instruments.

"What are the new estimates for the sedative drip?"

"Eighty milliliters per hour."

"Are you sure? That sounds low," she pressed.

"Yes, I'm sure. It's enough to keep him in an induced coma. I did the math myself."

Her eyes flashed to another monitor that was showing increased activity. "Then why are the brain waves so erratic."

"What?" Wilson said as he searched for the screen in question. He seemed to be purposefully obtuse.

"There!" she said, pointing. "On the monitor. Something's wrong."

He finally found it. "He's reacting to outside stimuli, showing awareness of his surrounds."

Miranda saw something she hadn't see from her subject for the two years they had been working. Its – no – his head moved by itself, without the use of electrical stimuli. She approached the table, hoping to keep the man calm.

"My god, Miranda. I think he's waking up."

"Damn it, Wilson! He's not ready yet. Give him the sedative!"

She looked down at her patient. His large, brown eyes were full of questions, questions he couldn't form. His breathing grew frantic and shallow, and his heart rate steadily increased. He was shifting, threatening to hurt himself more and set them back months.

"Shepard, don't try to move," Miranda said as calmly as she could. She grabbed the wrist of his hand that he was trying to bring toward her and gently set it back down on the table. "Just lie still and try to stay calm."

"His heart rate is still climbing. His brain activity is of the charts." Wilson was growing uneasy. "Stats pushing into the red zone. It's not working!"

She moved to the station he was at, pushing him to the side, and taking a look at the alarming numbers. "Another dose. Now!"

Wilson typed the command into the console. Almost immediately the alarms stopped blaring, and his stats returned to normal.

"Heart rate dropping. Stats falling back into normal range."

Miranda walked back to Shepard as his breathing slowed and movement settled. His eyes had that glassy sheen to them that told her the sedative was working.

"That was too close. We almost lost him," Wilson said.

She couldn't stop the scowl from forming. "I told you your estimates were off. Run the numbers again."

She turned back to her sub-, her patient. His neck relaxed and finally set his head back onto the table. But his eyes remained open, watching Miranda. She felt like they, even in their drugged state, were examining her, piercing past the walls she built around herself. The gaze reminded her of her father, and she felt very much like a little girl again, hoping that whatever either man found inside of her would make them proud.

Eventually, Shepard closed his eyes and drifted back into the medically induced coma, but the feeling lingered. Miranda shook herself awake and reminded herself that she was no longer a child. The last thing she wanted in this galaxy was her father's support. And she sure as hell didn't need the first human Spectre's approval either.

All she needed was to finish the Lazarus Project without killing the man she spent two years bringing back.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Would you look at that. I'm actually early. Hopefully that makes up for me missing a week._

_As I was writing Thane's part, I was struck about how very un-Thane-like he was acting. No philosophical debates, no grim efficiency, no prayer. It almost made me rewrite his entire part, but then I realized Thane was acting un-Thane-like while he hunted his wife's characters. I just hope I brought some of his regular personality back in the short bit after the fight._

_And Miranda is just Miranda, proud, intelligent, and somewhat aloof. We'll see if that changes._

_As always, thanks for reading and please review. Reviews and followers make me happy._


	12. Jacob

**Jacob**

Jacob was trying to eat as fast as he could while still attempting to enjoy the meal. The food on the Lazarus Research Station was better than most, at least to him. Others grumbled about it, but, when you spent five years eating military rations, almost anything was a step up. So he wasn't going to complain.

What he really wanted, even more than evening chow, was to get some rack time. The day had been long and unexciting. Even though he was Miranda's top lieutenant, Jacob was not a scientist. That meant he was regulated to managing the day to day affairs of the station as well as its security. He didn't like his horribly mundane job, but it was the one he was given. He would see it through.

He returned his dishes to the kitchen and headed to his room. He was about half way there when Jacob felt a small vibration through the bulkhead. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him at first before a stronger tremor shook and made him stagger. It was accompanied by the distinct sound of an explosion.

Jacob's training quickly kicked in, and his weariness left him. He raised his omnitool to call the security control room.

"Control room, this is Jacob. What the hell is going on?"

There was no response.

"Control room! Ryan!" The radio stayed silent. "What the hell is happening?" he said mostly to himself. He tried one of the men he knew was on duty. "Calvin, report."

After a moment, a frantic voice came over the radio, accompanied with gunfire and more explosions. "Jacob! It's the mechs! They've gone berserk! They just started firing on everyone and trying to sabotage the station."

"What?! How did – never mind. Where are you?"

There was more gunfire and a burst of static. "I'm over by the dorms. They are closing fast. They already got Fitz. I don't know-"

The line went dead. Jacob tried to raise Calvin again but didn't have any luck. He started to move toward the dorms while answering a new call. A familiar voice broke.

"Jacob, what's the status?" Miranda asked.

"I'm not sure. There is a report of the mechs attacking our people and trying to destroy the station. The security control room isn't responding, and I don't know how many of the security personnel are left."

There was a pregnant pause before she spoke again. "Where are you now?"

"I'm on my way to the dormitories. One of my guys is there. I'm going to try to-"

"No. I need you to head to the medical wing."

"Miranda, there are people-" Jacob tried, exasperation evident in his voice.

She didn't allow him to finish. "There is only one person on this station that is worth the risk of hacking all of the security mechs. They are after him. The rest of us don't matter." There was another moment as she waited for his answer. "You know I'm right, Jacob."

He swore under his breath. "I'm on my way. Just. Be careful, Miranda."

"I always am."

The channel closed, and Jacob was off in the opposite direction of explosions and distant gunfire he was now hearing. He just had to hope that some of them would be able to defend themselves and make it to the escape shuttles.

Unfortunately, the medical wing was on the opposite side of the station, and it became evident that the entire automated security force had been hacked like Miranda said. Jacob crossed through many rooms where the machines had systematically cut down everyone. It seemed they didn't run into much trouble either. There were only a few sparking mech corpses scattered about in the carnage.

As Jacob closed in on the medical wing, he ran into more and more opposition. The question was whether the increased mech presence was due to them closing in on their target or someone was trying to stop him.

He almost made it to the offices in the medical wing when he was overwhelmed by a constant stream of security droids. He took cover behind a set of metal seats, dipping in and out to fire and keep the machines at bay.

Jacob ejected a spent thermal clip, reached into his ammo pouch, and started to worry. He hadn't been ready for an all-out assault from inside the station, and his ammo supply was quickly dwindling. He didn't know how much longer he could last against this onslaught.

Then, he noticed an armored man emerge from the door that leads deeper into medical. He couldn't really see who it was in the craziness of the firefight. He knew it wasn't anyone from his security team, but he was human and wasn't firing at him. Jacob wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth as the old saying went.

The man glanced at the mechs keeping both of them pinned down before catching Jacob's eye and nodding at him. He knew what the newcomer wanted him to do. He popped out from behind the seats and started shooting, giving the man cover as he made his way to Jacob's position. One of the mechs' head was blown clean off, but three more took its place from another room.

Jacob ducked back into cover and instantly recognized the armored man. "Shepard?!" he exclaimed. "What the hell? What are you doing here? I thought you were still a work in progress."

"Listen," Shepard said curtly, "I was just woken up five minutes ago in some hospital room by some woman. Everything I've come across since then has been trying to kill me. I don't know where I am, and I don't know what is going on."

"Yeah, sorry. I forgot this was all new to you right now. I'm Jacob Taylor. The woman who woke you was probably Miranda Lawson. We've been stationed here-" A shot pinged off the metal seats in front of them, causing both of them to duck a bit lower. "Damn it! Things must be worse than I thought if Miranda's got you running around. I'll fill you in, but we better get you to the shuttle first."

"No," he answered firmly. "I'm tired of being led around like a dog on a leash. You need to tell what I want to know before I go anywhere with you."

Another bullet whizzed by closer than Jacob would have liked. "Fine. But we need to take care of-"

Jacob was interrupted by the Spectre quickly standing and emptying his clip into the three mechs. All three had bullet marks on their chassis, and none of them had their head intact. No more entered the room.

"Damn, Commander. The vids kept saying you were the best soldier in the Alliance. I thought it was just something they said to drive up recruitment, but now I can see they weren't wrong."

His face remained stony and cross. "Answers, Taylor."

He nodded. "Right, sorry. I'll give you the quick version. You and your ship were attacked and destroyed by an unknown assailant. You were killed. Dead as dead can be when they brought you here. Our scientists spent the last two years putting you back together. You've been comatose, or worse, that entire time. Welcome back to life."

Shepard's expression quickly changed to a look of shock, not that Jacob could blame him. It was a lot to take in.

"I… That's… I'm having trouble wrapping my head around this."

"Yeah, I can imagine. The Alliance officially declared you killed in action. The whole galaxy thinks you're dead, Commander."

Worry appeared his face. "What about the rest of my crew on the _Normandy_? Did any of them make it out alive?"

Jacob nodded while noting how quickly the man's emotions were changing. It wasn't indicative of the stoic Spectre the Alliance boasted about. "Just about everybody survived. A few servicemen from the lower decks didn't get out. Navigator Pressly was killed in an explosion on the bridge. But everyone else, including the non-Alliance crew – the asari, Liara, and the turian, Garrus – they all made it out alive."

"Good," Shepard answered, relieved. "Do you know what they are doing now?"

"I don't. It's been a long time. They've moved on, left the Alliance. Could be anywhere."

"I need to look for them, let them know I'm alive."

Jacob knew the Illusive Man wouldn't want his new operative wasting valuable time on a search for old friends, but Shepard didn't need to know that. "Maybe you can track them down after we get off this station. If you're ready to move,-"

He held up a hand. "Not yet. I still have questions. I don't know where I am still, and I don't know if I trust you yet."

"Okay. Where to start?" Jacob took a moment to gather his thoughts. "We are on a deep-space station that was designed for Project Lazarus, designed to rebuild you. I'm in charge of the station's security. Usually it's a lot more dull then this. Normally, I don't fire my weapon unless it's target practice. Before this, I served for five years in the Alliance."

Jacob noticed the commander visibly relaxed at the mention of his previous marine experience. It was probably the only common ground the man had discovered in the middle of this insanity.

"You said they spent two years rebuilding me," he said, the edge to his voice mostly vanished. "How bad were my injuries?"

"I'm no doctor, but it was bad. When I first saw you, you were nothing but meat and tubes. Anywhere else, they would have put you in a coffin. But Project Lazarus was different, cutting edge technology."

Shepard tensed. "What does that mean? Cybernetics? Am I a clone?"

"I don't know the details," Jacob answered as he shook his head. "You'd have to ask the scientists. But I'm pretty sure you're not a clone. They wanted to bring you back exactly as you were. Miranda, the lead on this project, made sure that you are still you. You just may have some extra bits and pieces."

Shepard took a minute, and Jacob was more than willing to give him the time. He couldn't imagine what was going through the man's head. It sounded too bizarre, too ridiculous, too fanciful. If he didn't see the before and after pictures himself, Jacob would have thought what they had accomplished here was impossible.

Taylor felt more explosions shake the station. "Listen, I know that this is a lot to process, but we can't stay here much longer. We need to get to the evac shuttles. I think if we-"

"Check. Check," a familiar voice interrupted over the radio. "Anyone on this frequency? Anybody still alive out there? Hello?"

"Wilson," Jacob answered. "This is Jacob. I'm here with Commander Shepard. We just took out a wave of mechs over in D Wing."

"Shepard's alive?! How the hell… never mind. You need to get him out of here. Let's see if I can find you a safe route." There was a moment of eerie silence as the ground vibrated again. "Get to the service tunnels and head for the network control room. I'll meet you two there."

"Roger that, Wilson. Stay on this frequency." Jacob looked toward Shepard. "You ready?"

He had a pensive, suspicious expression on his face, but it eventually faded. "Lead the way."

Jacob led both of them down the corridors of the station, trying to make it to the meeting point in one piece. Yet, it seemed that every corner they turned, every room they passed was filled with mechs. Even the rarely-used service tunnels Wilson suggested were full.

"Damn it, Wilson!" Jacob yelled into his comm as he took cover. "This way is crawling with mechs! Find us another route, preferably one without an enemy squad."

"The whole station is crawling with them," he answered. "But I'll see what I can do."

Shepard crouched down next to him and ejected a spent thermal clip from his pistol. "I think this Wilson is leading us into the mechs instead of away from them."

"No way," Jacob said. He stood, shot one of the droids, and biotically pushed another before ducking. "He's part of the team that helped rebuild you. There is no way he would risk everything now."

"If he worked on me, then he must have known how close I was to coming back," Shepard yelled over the pinging bullets. "Why was he so surprised that I was up and moving?" He stood back up to unleash more gunfire on the dwindling mechs.

Jacob didn't have an answer for his question. Wilson had sounded exceptionally surprised at Shepard's resilience. There was the possibility…

He shook his head. It was crazy talk. Wilson spent two years of his life on this station trying to reconstruct the man crouching next to Taylor. They had shared a table during mealtime and drinks afterhours. What reason would he have to throw it all away now?

Shepard blew the head off the last mech and waited for it to explode before speaking again. "Listen, Jacob. You're Alliance, and I trust you."

Jacob internally winced at that. He hadn't lied to the commander, just didn't tell him the complete truth. Still, he didn't enjoy misleading the man.

"But I don't know this Wilson. Ever since we spoke to him, we have been running into a constant stream of enemies, and someone had to hack the security on this station, someone on the inside."

Jacob understood what Shepard was concluding to. The commander believed Wilson could be the traitor, the same thought that had just passed through his mind. Jacob just wasn't willing to consider it.

"Wilson may not be the easiest person to get along with," Jacob said, "but I'm not going to condemn the man without some hard evidence."

The Spectre watched him closely, his eyes hard. Jacob felt like he was being evaluated which probably wasn't far from the truth. Finally, Shepard relented and gave a small nod.

"Fine. You know him better than I do. I'll follow your lead. All I ask is that you think about what I said."

"Let's move. The network control room isn't much further."

There was only light resistance the rest of the way. It gave Jacob a chance to assess Shepard's combat capabilities. He quickly realized that the man was damn near flawless. There was no wasted movement, every action crisp and purposeful. If the Shepard wasn't like this before, Jacob doubted that there would any objection to the improvements. Miranda would be content with proof that the commander was the way he used to be once they found her.

_If we find her_, Jacob thought before he could stop himself. He needed to not think like that. She was tough. She would survive this.

The two were only a few meters from the stairs leading up to the rendezvous point when Wilson's panicked voice came over the comms.

"Oh God! They found me! Help!"

Jacob stopped to hear the frantic man better. "Wilson? Where are you?"

"Server Room B! Hurry! They're out of control!"

They bounded up the stairs and streaked down the hallway, trying to reach him in time. They heard one distinct gunshot as they ran past the empty rooms. They reached the door to the server and hurried inside to provide support. However, they found nothing except sparking terminals and a wounded Wilson behind some crates. There weren't even bullet scorings or mech corpses.

"Jacob! Shepard!" Wilson shouted from his position. "Down here! Bastards got me in the leg."

Jacob made his way over to see how bad the wound was. The commander stood back and covered him but kept a suspicious eye on the downed man.

He checked Wilson's leg. The injury was superficial. The bullet only grazed his thigh, but he guessed that it hurt a great deal to the non-combatant.

"Shepard, could you get me some medi-gel? There should be a first aid station over on the wall."

He nodded and quickly found what Jacob needed. When he handed it to Taylor, he took a double take at the injured man.

"I know your face," Shepard said to Wilson.

"That's surprising," Wilson answered with a grunt as Jacob applied the gel. "You only woke up once before today. I was there though, but it's incredible that you remember." He laughed mirthlessly as he stood on unsteady feet. "It's funny. Never thought you'd save my life. Guess that makes us even now."

Wilson turned to Jacob. "I thought maybe I could shut down the security mechs from here, but whoever did this fried the whole system. Completely irreversible."

"We didn't ask what you were doing," Jacob said. "Why do you even have security mech clearance? You were in the bio wing."

"Weren't you listening?" Wilson practically growled. "I came here to try and fix this. Besides, I was shot. How do you explain that?"

"And who shot you?" Shepard asked coldly, his arms crossed. "I don't see any mechs around here."

Wilson's eyes burned with anger, but, before he could say anything, Jacob stepped between them.

"Stop. We can blame each other when we get to the shuttle. Let's just get there and wait for Miranda."

"Forget Miranda. She was over in D Wing. Mechs were all over that sector. There is no way she survived."

"And how do you know that?" Shepard said, an accusation heavy in his voice.

Wilson looked like he was going to blow but chose to ignore Shepard's question. "Even if she did survive, where is she? Why haven't we heard from her? There are only two possible explanations: she is either dead or the traitor!"

"No way," Jacob quickly countered. "She would never betray the boss. She put two years of her life into this project. She wouldn't sabotage it now that Shepard was almost ready. Besides, why set up this trap only to wake up Shepard after the attack started?"

"Okay, maybe she's not the traitor. That doesn't change the facts. We're here, she's not. We need to save ourselves."

"Fifteen minutes," Shepard said quietly. "We give her fifteen minutes once we hit the extraction point. If she's not there by then, than she probably isn't going to get there."

Jacob nodded his head in agreement. It was an older marine guideline. You stay at the extraction point for as long as you can or up to fifteen minutes to give separated squad members a chance to make it. Every marine hated leaving their fellows behind or getting separated, but you could never stay in complete control of the situation once boots hit the ground. Sometimes it was necessary, and the rule was put in place.

"Fine," Wilson begrudgingly said. "Let's get going."

Jacob quickly looked at Shepard and saw the tension in his body. Meeting Wilson had set him on edge, and he doubted the commander would stand being left out of the loop much longer.

"Wait, Wilson." He turned to Shepard. "Shepard, if I tell you who we work for, will you trust me?"

"This really isn't the time, Jacob," Wilson warned.

"We won't make it if he expects a shot in the back."

"If you want to piss off the boss, it's your ass."

Jacob turned back to Shepard and noticed that he had gotten unsettled during their small conversation. He shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortable, and his hand looked ready to reach for his gun.

Jacob took a deep breath. "The Lazarus Project," he said slowly, "the program that rebuilt you… it was funded and controlled by Cerberus."

He barely got out the third syllable of the group's name when his back was slammed into the wall, and his head bounced off the bulkhead. Stars exploded in his vision. He had to blink half a dozen times before his sight cleared and realized he was pinned to the wall by Shepard's forearm. The Spectre's pistol was also leveled at Wilson.

"If either one of you makes even a twitch I don't like, I would kill you both without a second thought," Shepard growled, murderous rage burning in his eyes. "Is that clear?"

Jacob nodded ever so slightly. Wilson let out a weak "Yes."

"Wonderful."

Jacob never heard the word 'wonderful' be said with such malice before.

Shepard leveled his intense glare at Jacob, and it made him shudder. "You lied to me, Jacob. You told me you were with the Alliance. I don't like being played for a sucker." He pressed harder into his neck, making it more difficult for him to breathe.

"I-I didn't lie to you, Commander. I was with the Alliance, before I joined Cerberus. The Alliance declared you dead. They gave up. Cerberus-" He choked for a minute as Shepard pressed harder whenever he said the name of the black ops group. "Cerberus spent a fortune to bring you back."

"Why?" he snarled. "What do you want from me? I'll tell you right now, you're not going to get it."

Jacob fought to take a deep breath. "We just wanted you. You are one of humanity's best soldiers. You destroyed a Reaper. Humanity needs you. The galaxy needs you." Another labored breath. "Look, I'd be suspicious too. We don't have the best track record with you, but right now we have to work together. I'll take you to the Illusive Man once we are off the station. He'll explain everything. I promise."

"Your promises mean nothing to me," he spat back. But Jacob noticed the fierceness in his eyes subsided a bit. He eased the pressure on Jacob's chest but still kept him pinned to the wall and his gun leveled at a visibly shaking Wilson. "Why did you tell me this? We were almost off this godforsaken station. Why risk it now?"

"Because you deserved to know what's what," he choked out.

Shepard did nothing except hold Jacob's gaze for a moment. Eventually, he pressed his forearm hard against the pinned man's throat one last time before releasing him. Jacob flopped to the floor, coughing roughly. When he was able to look up again, he noticed that Shepard's pistol hung limply at his side.

"Let's get one thing straight: I don't care what they did or what you say. I'm not working with terrorists."

Jacob stood, rubbing his throat. He knew there would be a bruise there later. "You can tell it to the boss, but after we save our butts. We're almost at the shuttle."

"You two first," Shepard demanded. "I don't trust either of you to watch my back."

"Fair enough," Jacob answered and led the two men out of the server room.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_I'm sorry. I've been horrible to you guys, missing weeks for updates. I won't make promises, but I'm going to try to make it up to you guys this weekend. I hope to get two more chapters up before Monday, but we will see how it goes._

_So we finally hit the Mass Effect 2 game. It is a little exposition heavy, but that's because Shepard just woke up in a foreign environment around people he's never seen before. The man is going to have questions. Hopefully it wasn't too boring. You know what; the more I write Jacob, the less boring he becomes. Not saying he is getting his own spin-off, but he's a good narrative vehicle for Shepard-centric chapters._

_As always, thanks for reading and please review!_


	13. Miranda

**Miranda**

The commander was close to being whole again. His internal organs were operating proficiently. All cybernetic implants were running efficiently and showed no signs of rejection. His bones were mended, his muscles strengthened. Even during the disturbing yet brief time he reawakened, his consciousness seemed to be functioning. All in all, the Lazarus Project was a resounding success.

Then, why did Miranda feel uneasy?

She should be satisfied. Completing a seemingly impossible goal given directly by the Illusive Man should come with a sense of accomplishment. Yet all she felt was trepidation.

Maybe it was the aforementioned occurrence of Shepard regaining consciousness. Even though there had been many small roadblocks during their two years, that particular incident was the closest the group had come to losing their subject. What was even stranger was that Dr. Wilson's sedation estimates were correct. Miranda recalculated and retested them multiple times only to receive the same answer. So, why had the commander woken?

Miranda was in her small office, thinking over possible explanations as she did every night since it happened when she felt the first shudder. Not wasting any time to contemplate what it could be, she quickly called Jacob.

"Jacob, what's the status?"

"I'm not sure," he answered seconds later. He sounded winded, like he was hurrying somewhere. "There is a report of the mechs attacking our people and trying to destroy the station. The security control room isn't responding, and I don't know how many of the security personnel are left."

Pieces began to fall into place. She realized that this was the second and much more drastic attempt on Shepard's life, the first being what she was currently musing over. The thought of a traitor in their midst had crossed her mind in the previous month. It had seemed the most likely reason as well as the most disconcerting. Miranda never acted on the impulse for fear of provoking the turncoat. Now, it was clear the man or woman needed no provocation.

They needed to get Shepard away from this station. "Where are you now?" she asked Jacob.

"I'm on my way to the dormitories. One of my guys is there. I'm going to try to-"

She cut him off. "No. I need you to head to the medical wing."

"Miranda," he pleaded, "there are people-"

She didn't let him finish. "There is only one person on this station that is worth the risk of hacking all of the security mechs. They are after him. The rest of us don't matter."

He didn't answer. Miranda knew how hard this was for him. Jacob was a good soldier, a good marine who didn't like to leave people behind to their fate. But she knew the galaxy didn't need more good soldiers, more researchers, more scientists. It needed Commander Shepard.

"You know I'm right, Jacob."

He swore under his breath. She knew it meant he agreed with her albeit reluctantly. "I'm on my way. Just. Be careful, Miranda."

"I always am."

She terminated the connection. Jacob had always been sentimental and caring man, but their time together ended long ago. Miranda didn't need unnecessary attachments, and he was one.

She turned her attention to the problem at hand. It was tempting to head to the lab right now to secure Shepard. If all the security mechs were working against them, however, Miranda doubted she could make it there before Jacob. She was an excellent marksman and a powerful biotic, but she was no soldier. Besides, they would need the commander awake and moving if they wanted to get out of this alive.

She quickly made her way to the nearest security room. There were only a few mechs standing in her way, and they posed little threat for her biotics. She reached the empty room much faster than she thought.

Miranda started her work, typing in the commands to link with the medical lab consoles. Once connected, she stopped the sedatives keeping Shepard unconscious and added a little adrenals to stimulate his systems. She watched over the monitor as he started to stir, but he was moving too slow. She needed him to wake faster.

"Wake up, Commander!" she yelled over the PA system.

His eyes opened, but they were groggy and unfocused.

"Shepard, do you hear me? Get out of that bed now. This facility is under attack."

The station shook under both of them. Miranda stumbled away from the console. When she looked back to Shepard, he was sliding off the table, holding his ribs and grimacing in pain.

"Your scars aren't fully healed, but I need you to get moving. This facility is under attack. There's a pistol and armor in the locker on the other side of the room. Hurry!"

He opened the locker and expertly donned the armor they had placed there for him. Next, he grabbed the pistol and looked it over.

She was about to explain to him about the relatively recent advancements in heat displacement technology when he asked, "This pistol doesn't have a thermal clip."

His knowledge surprised her. She didn't like being surprised.

"It's a med bay," Miranda said harsher than was necessary. "We'll get you a clip from…" She noticed a fuel cell venting its contents. "Damn it! Those canisters by the door are going to blow! Get behind cover, now!"

Shepard was already half way there by the time she finished. The damaged containers blew, harmlessly sending the shrapnel over his head.

"What the hell is going on here?" the commander asked as he stood and moved to the door.

"Someone's hack security, trying to kill you. Look for a thermal clip. There are a couple dead security personnel just outside the doors."

He found them and searched their bodies. "That's a little callous."

"They're dead. I doubt they care. I'm more worried about the living," she answered simply.

Shepard snorted, shook his head, but said nothing. He kept moving.

"Looks like they set up a barricade to try holding off the mechs," Miranda commented.

"Who did? There's no one here," he said as he vaulted over the makeshift cover.

"Maybe they made their way – look out!"

He lifted his pistol and destroyed the head of the mech before it even finished its startup cycle. The results of the Lazarus Project were looking promising.

"Impressive, Commander. Now, you need to get moving. We need to get you to the shuttles."

She watched as he made his way through the offices in the medical wing. He peaked in a few and tried a few of the consoles. Most were locked, but he was able to watch a few of her logs. Miranda wanted him to hurry along, but she knew better than to push him too far.

As he entered the next room, she realized that a group of mechs were approaching.

"Shepard, security mechs are closing in on your position. Take cover, and don't take any chances. Keep your head down while you take them."

Gunfire erupted in the room, but that didn't stop Shepard from yelling back, "I know how to handle myself in a firefight. I don't need you explaining everything. You want to help? Keep the path you want me to follow free and clear of enemies."

Another surprise. No one spoke to Miranda like that. She wanted to pass it off as him not knowing her, but something told her, even if they did work together, he would always speak to her just as frank.

The console had only limited connectivity to the mech network, but she did what she could to keep Shepard's route clear. It usually meant sending the security forces toward some other populated portion of the station. According to his psych profile, if the commander knew what his request forced her to do, Miranda doubted he would have made it. He was always adamant about facing staggering opposition if it meant others' safety was assured.

She wasn't so selfless. Like she told Jacob, humanity needed Shepard.

Miranda looked back at the monitor to see Shepard searching through more offices and consoles. He needed to hurry. Her restricted access to the automated security force was failing. It was as if someone was fighting her on the other side.

"Don't waste time, Commander. I can't keep them off you for much longer."

Just as she said that, a group of five mechs entered one of the camera's field of view. They were heading directly toward Shepard's position. All the commands and reroutes Miranda attempted failed.

"More reinforcements heading your way," she warned.

Shepard lifted a grenade launcher from one of the bodies and expertly lobbed one of the explosives into the group, destroying them. He took the elevator down and moved to the next room.

"You're doing great, Shepard," Miranda said. She checked on Jacob's position on the monitors and found that he was close to the commander's position. "Head to the next room. Someone will meet you there."

The man stopped and looked around him as if he couldn't understand her.

"Shepard? Do you read me?"

More confusion on his face, and Miranda noticed a group of mechs just on the other side of her door.

"I've got mechs closing in on my position. Get to Jacob. He'll show you the way to the shuttles."

She didn't know how much of the message got through. Someone must have cut off the communications at her station. She didn't have time to worry about that particular problem now though. Five mechs opened the door and shot their opening salvo.

Miranda ducked behind one of the consoles as it was peppered by bullets. They continued to fire until their clips were spent. The mechs were sufficient when the desired outcome was a large volume of gunfire, but they were woefully inadequate when tactics where required.

As they sluggishly ejected their spent thermals, Miranda fired back. One went down as a shot pierced its power core. Another had its offhand arm blown off, reducing its effectiveness but not disabling it. She finished the assault with a biotic push that forced a third mech into the wall.

Miranda felt bullets ping off her biotic barrier and was forced to crouch behind her cover again. The console was taking a beating. She didn't know how much longer she could stay behind it safely. Her eyes searched for protection someplace else but found nothing. This needed to end now.

The mechs started their second reload, and Miranda acted. One of the whole mechs glowed blue as it was lifted and thrown into the one-arm. They tangled together. Her submachine gun erupted with hot metal that pierced through another mech's head. She charged one last push and threw it at the last standing enemy. It slammed against the wall, all four limbs removed by the impact.

Miranda quickly approached the two knotted mechs that were still attempting to disentangle themselves. She shot each one in the head, ending their struggle. Then she tried to find a working console in the ravaged security room. Now it was clear someone was trying to kill Shepard and stop her from helping. She wanted to who.

She found one that was only sparking as opposed to outright demolished. Miranda searched through the camera feeds from inside the security and server rooms. They were the only areas that had access to mech controls, camera feeds, and communication channels. She eventually found the snake in Server Room B.

"Wilson," she spat.

It explained some of the questions she had and opened many more. But just as quickly as the questions formed, they were pushed away. He had threatened her project. He tried to kill Shepard. He decimated this station. She honestly didn't care about his reasons, and she wasn't about to allow him leave.

She had to beat them to the evac shuttles to protect Shepard from the traitor. It shouldn't be hard. Once Wilson realized that his plan has failed, he would most likely panic and send as many available mechs to face Shepard as possible. Her route should be fairly clear.

Miranda knew she didn't have worry about Shepard. He would find Jacob, or he would make it to the shuttles by himself if he didn't. In all the profiles and reports she had read about the commander, one reoccurring trait became evident. He always found a way out of any difficult situation. Lawson would have called it luck if she believed in such a thing.

She found that her assumption about the clear path was not completely correct. There were still a great deal of enemies in the rooms and hallways she moved through. The mechs opened fire on her as she ran past, draining her protection. More than one she was forced to hide in one of the cleared offices to regain her strength and refocus her barrier.

She eventually made it to the shuttle and was able to clear the area before anyone else arrived. The solitary waiting didn't last long. There were voices on the other side of the door that led to the loading docks. There was a possibility that it was Shepard. It was one of the available routes from his last known position.

The door slide open to reveal three men, the closest one in the middle of a sentence.

"-almost at the-"

Miranda sneered once she realized who it was.

"Miranda!" Wilson said, startled. "But you were-"

She didn't allow him to finish. Her gun was up and smoking as Wilson crumpled.

"Dead?" she said coldly.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Jacob exclaimed.

"My job. Wilson betrayed us all."

She looked to Shepard who had his pistol raised at her. She expected that.

"I knew he was hiding something," he said. "But you should have taken him alive, see what he knew."

Miranda shook her head. "Too risky. I put too much time and effort into bringing you back to life to let you get killed now."

"Do you really think Wilson's capable of betraying us?" Jacob asked.

She looked down at the dead man. "Not anymore."

Miranda felt Shepard's hard gaze still on her. She didn't meet his eyes, still remembering the way they bored into her a month ago. It was not an experience she wished to relive with his gun still pointed toward her.

"I recognize you," the commander finally said. "You were there when I woke up before. Your voice was the one that woke me up today. You're Miranda."

The recognition forced her to look at him. His face spoke of the vague familiarity he was feeling toward her. His pistol, while still pointed toward her, dipped ever so slightly.

She realized she never introduced herself to him since he had been conscience. Jacob must have filled in some of the holes.

"Yes, I am. Pleasure to finally speak with you in person, Commander Shepard. Now, we need to get on the shuttle and get off this station. It isn't safe here. The mechs are still active. And my boss wants to speak with you?"

His face grew furious, and his pistol was leveled back on her. His eyes danced between Miranda and Jacob, like he didn't know who would attack him first.

"You mean the Illusive Man?" Shepard said angrily. "I know you work for Cerberus."

Lawson sighed. "Ah, Jacob. I should have known your conscience would get the better of you."

"Lying to the commander isn't the way to get him to join our cause."

"I highly doubt there is a way for me to join your cause," Shepard added.

Miranda smirked. "Many doubted I could bring you back. Yet here you are. If you would kindly put down the gun and come with us. We need to leave this place."

"And if I don't?"

She shrugged. "You're welcome to stay and rot with the mechs."

Shepard didn't look convinced behind his gun. "You dedicated two years of your life to rebuilding me. You obviously think I'm worth something. I doubt you're willing to leave me behind."

He had her there. The quick comment was reassuring. His mind showed no signs of degradation or stupor.

"The fact of the matter is anyone who stays wouldn't have a chance in hell to survive," Jacob told him.

The commander's eyes darted to Jacob and regarded him suspiciously before they settled back on Miranda. "What about the rest of the people on the station? If we leave…" He trailed off.

"They will die," Miranda finished for him. "This is the evac area. If they're not here now, they're not coming. I'm surprised you are so willing to sacrifice for Cerberus personnel."

"They're people first," Shepard answered. "If I left them to their fate, I would be no better than you people. We have to go back and look."

"Don't you get it?" Miranda said harshly. Time was running short, and they couldn't waste any more of it here. "The only one worth saving is you. Everyone else is expendable. Everyone knew the risks when they signed up."

"She's right, Shepard," Jacob added. "Without you, there's no point to any of this. Don't let their sacrifice go to waste."

That rattled the commander. He finally dropped his gun. Jacob must have done his homework. He seemed to know exactly which buttons to push to get Shepard to agree with them.

"Fine," he said dejectedly. "Let's go before I change my mind."

* * *

They were well on their way to the closest Cerberus station when Miranda joined the two soldiers in the cargo compartment. The shuttle was left on autopilot for the few hours left to travel. She had more work to do, more tests to run on the resurrected Spectre before she was satisfied with her work.

"Before you meet with the Illusive Man, we need to ask a few questions to evaluate your condition," she said as she sat down.

Jacob seemed to disagree. "Come on, Miranda. More tests? Shepard took down those mechs without any trouble. That has to be good enough."

"It's been two years since the attack. The Illusive Man will want to know that his investments were worthwhile. Ask the questions."

"I'm not some investment or tool for Cerberus to use," Shepard said obstinately. "I'm an Alliance marine and a Citadel Spectre."

"You were," Miranda corrected. "You've been gone for two years and twelve days. You're listed as KIA in all their databases. Jacob, start with personal history."

"Fine. Records show you were a colony kid. Lost your parents when slavers hit Mindoir. You enlisted at eighteen, and survived a thresher maw attack that wiped out the rest of your team. Do you remember that?"

His eyes narrowed. "I led a lot of my squad, a lot of friends, to their death that day. It nearly broke me."

Jacob nodded his head, not catching the obvious anger in the man's voice. "I read the report. Fifty marines died on Akuze. You were the only one who lived."

"Found out later that Cerberus was behind the attack, so I would be careful with what you bring up when going through my personal history."

"That wasn't really Cerberus, Commander," Miranda assured him. "It was a rogue group that split-"

He stood and pointed an accusatory finger. "Don't you dare try to play it off as some splinter group. I don't care what your boss says or what you tell me. Those scientists had Cerberus funding. That makes you just as guilty for that attack as they are. Those deaths are on your hands."

His body was tense as he hovered over the two, waiting for some response. Yet Miranda recognized the sadness that he was desperately trying to withhold and bury. His eyes didn't contain the same heat they had back on the Lazarus Station.

She was tempted to press further but decided against it. "Fair enough, Commander. Let's try something more recent. Virmire, where you destroyed Saren's cloning facility. You had to leave one of your squad to die in the blast."

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams was killed in action," Jacob picked up where she left off. "It was your call. Why did you leave her behind?"

Instead of returning to his seat, Shepard moved to one of the walls of the small cabin and placed his forehead against it. He stood there for quite some time before answering.

"I left a friend to die that day, and I didn't do it casually," he said, barely loud enough to be heard over the shuttle engines. His voice was an odd mixture of regret, anger, and sorrow. "But I had to save as many people as I could. Ash gave her life for the rest of the team. Without her, I couldn't have stopped Saren. She died a hero, and I would appreciate it if you didn't belittle her sacrifice."

Jacob nodded. "I understand, Commander, and I wasn't judging your decision. Everybody at Cerberus knows that cloning facility had to be destroyed."

He laughed harshly. "That doesn't make me feel any better. Actually, it makes me feel worse." He turned and sat back down. "And it's First Lieutenant Ashley Williams. Use her proper rank. She's earned it."

Jacob meekly nodded his head, likely feeling chastised. Protocol and discipline had always been an important trait to the retired marine. If Miranda knew him, and she knew she did, the mistake and Shepard's rebuked stung quite a bit.

Miranda continued the questioning in his place. "Shepard, think back to the Citadel, after the Alliance saved the _Destiny Ascension_, and you killed Saren. What happened next?"

"You mean after a large chunk of the Reaper tried to kill me?"

He was being difficult and purposefully obtuse. Shepard was resilient but not unbreakable. Too much had happened to him today. Miranda knew he was reaching his limit.

Shepard sighed. "Humanity was offered a spot on the Council. I recommended Captain Anderson for the position."

"Yes. Captain Anderson is now Councilor Anderson, though I hear he preferred life in the military."

Jacob seemed to snap out of his thoughts. "Good to know that the human Council member isn't going to put politics ahead of defense. Satisfied, Miranda?"

"Your memory seems solid. There are other tests we should run…" She noticed the disgusted look on the commander's face. "But those can wait. Hopefully the Illusive Man will accept our little field test as proof enough." She realized she never asked him one of the simplest questions to judge his condition.

"How are you feeling, Shepard?"

The commander shrugged. "I woke up to find a station full of mechs shooting at me, learned that I had been dead for two years, and was now in the hands of the same people that tried to kill me with thresher maws six – no eight years ago. My friends scattered, my commanders unreachable." He laughed mirthlessly. "I'm just great."

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Damn. Missed my mark again. Oh well. Hopefully the double chapter post will make up for it. I will be posting another later this week too, so do not despair._

_Not much to say about this chapter. More exposition to establish a status quo for Shepard while under Cerberus. I tried to feed in a little Miranda personality to try to break up the monotony._

_Oh, and thanks to the new followers! I was getting a little discouraged with the lack of emails in my inbox telling me about reviews, followers, or favorites. But have no fear. I will finish this project even if I don't get another one of those notices. They are just icing on the delicious cake that is writing this fan fic._

_As always, thanks for reading and please review!_


	14. Illusive Man

**Illusive Man**

The Illusive Man was rereading the preliminary report he received from Miranda with his customary glass of scotch in one hand and cigarette in the other. Wilson's betrayal was disconcerting. He was his top medical scientist. He had been trusted with running many projects, all of which fruitful. It made the Illusive Man wonder how long Wilson had been a double agent. The whys were of little consequence. He was dead, and his motivations no longer mattered. Who hired him was the question he really wanted answered. Cerberus had many very dangerous enemies that want no less than the group's destruction.

He wished Miranda would have taken him alive. He had methods and people well versed in obtaining information from reluctant parties. But that was the in past, and Miranda did what she felt was best. There was little he could do about it now.

His console beeped, letting him know that his new asset had entered the quantum entanglement device. He hit the necessary commands to start the transmission.

A fuzzy form finally coalesced. The armored man was looking about the small room on the other side of the call, probably wondering what was happening. QED communication was novel technology even today, let alone two years ago.

"Commander Shepard," he said, drawing the man's attention.

His brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms defensively. "Illusive Man. I thought we'd be meeting face to face."

He took a drag from his cigarette. "A necessary precaution. Not unusual for people who know what you and I know."

"Just so we know where we stand, I don't like you, and I certainly don't trust you. The only reason I'm even here now is because you're the reason I'm still alive. I want know why."

"You need to put your personal feelings aside."

"You don't get to tell me what I need to do," Shepard spat back.

"We can't be at each other's throats. Humanity is up against the greatest threat in our brief existence."

Shepard's defensive posture deflated a bit at the mention of the galaxy wide problem. "The Reapers."

The Illusive Man nodded. "Good to see your memory's still intact. How are you feeling?"

His eyes narrowed in lieu of a response. They weren't going to get anywhere if he kept acting like this.

"Cerberus isn't as evil as you believe, Shepard. You and I are on the same side; we just have different methods."

"Cut to the chase. What are the Reapers doing that made you decide to bring me back?"

Now they were getting somewhere. Hostile but willing was better than nothing. Common enemies did wonders for unsteady alliances, and there was no greater enemy than the Reapers.

"We're at war," the Illusive Man said definitively. "No one wants to admit it, but humanity is under attack. While you've been sleeping, entire colonies have been disappearing. Human colonies. We believe it's someone working for the Reapers. Just as Saren and the geth aided Sovereign. You've seen it yourself. You've bested all of them. That's just one reason we chose you."

"Fighting a war isn't Cerberus' style. You're more about surprise attacks on unsuspecting marines and killing admirals that get too close to the truth."

He ignored the jabs. Yes, Cerberus wasn't the cleanest of organizations, but they got the job done. "We are committed to the advancement and preservation of humanity. If the Reapers are targeting us, trying to wipe us out, Cerberus will stop them. If we wait for politicians or the Alliance to act… no more human colonies will be left."

Shepard shook his head. "This doesn't make sense. Sovereign was trying to harvest all life in the galaxy. Why would the Reapers target a few human colonies?"

"Hundreds of thousands of colonists have vanished. I'd say that fits the definition of 'harvesting.' Nobody is paying attention to it because it's random, and the attacks occur in remote locations. I don't know they've suddenly targeted humanity. Maybe you got their attention when you killed one of them. I want you to find the answer."

"If this truly is a threat against humanity, you need to mobilize the Alliance. I'm sure you have agents working higher up that could get the ball rolling."

It was true. He did have Alliance admirals on the payroll and could get the Alliance to investigate the empty colonies. But the Illusive Man knew that this was only the Reaper's first strike after Shepard defeated Sovereign. There was going to be much bigger foes to face, and the Alliance needed to be strong and ready if humanity was going to survive.

"They've suffered substantial loses fighting Sovereign. They're rebuilding, still stretched too thin to waste resources verifying the Reaper threat. Blaming the abductions on mercs and pirates is easier and more convenient."

Shepard didn't respond immediately. The Illusive Man could see the man's mind working through the possibilities. Finally, he asked, "You could've trained an entire army for what you spent to bring me back. Why?"

The deceptively simple question was much more loaded, and the Illusive Man was unwilling to tell him the entirety of the answer. He believed that having Shepard was the only way the humanity was going to survive the Reaper invasion. If he told him, however, it would give the man a lot of control, control he didn't want to relinquish. So he gave him a lighter version.

"You're unique. Not just in ability or what you've experience, but in what you represent. You stood for humanity at a key moment. You're more than a soldier – you're a symbol. And I don't know if the Reapers understand fear, but you killed one. They have to respect that."

Half-truths and lies always worked better when there were elements of sincerity mixed in.

There was another long pause. Then Shepard's face contorted as if he was forced to eat some bitter four-eye cuisine against his will. "If what you say is true… if the Reapers are behind this… I'll look into it."

The Illusive Man knew it was as good as he was going to get from the man. "I'd be disappointed if you accepted any of this without seeing for yourself. I have a shuttle ready to take you to Freedom's Progress, the latest colony to be abducted. Miranda and Jacob will brief you."

"You expect me to work with those two? Miranda killed Wilson in cold blood, and Jacob is just a gun for hire. Honestly, I wouldn't trust anyone with a Cerberus logo on their chest to watch my back. I don't want to work with any of them."

He took a drink from his glass, the biting alcohol sliding down his throat soothingly. "Wilson was one of my best agents, but he was a traitor. Miranda did exactly what I expected of her. And she saved your life in more ways than one."

"Still doesn't mean I'm going to trust her."

"Jacob's a soldier, one of the best. He's never fully trusted me, but he's always been honest about it."

Shepard smiled, but it didn't reach his angry eyes. "Maybe there is still some hope for him then."

"You'll be fine with them… for now. Go see what you can find at the colony."

He exhaled loudly. "Do I have much of a choice? I'm stuck on one of your bases with Cerberus all around me. What if I say no?"

"You always have a choice, Shepard," the Illusive Man answered. It was another half-truth. "If you don't find the evidence you're looking for, we can part ways." Another lie. "But first, find any clues you can. Who's abduction the colonies? Do they have any connection to the Reapers? I brought you back. It's up to you to do the rest."

Just as the Illusive Man was about to terminate the call, Shepard spoke.

"Fine. I just have one more thing I'd like to say."

The soldier unholstered his pistol, pointed it at him, and fired. If they had been in the same room, the bullet would have passed straight through the Illusive Man's skull. However, being light-years apart, it would end up ricocheting off the metal walls of the room he was standing in. That didn't stop Shepard from overloading his thermal clip.

The unmoving Illusive Man waited until he heard the click of the trigger. Once Shepard slid home a new thermal clip and holstered his weapon, the Illusive Man asked, "Are you feeling better now?"

"Much," he almost growled. It was an obvious lie. He appeared more frustrated than when he entered. He turned and walked out of the scanning area.

The Illusive Man took another puff from his cigarette as he closed the communication channel. The conversation with Shepard achieved what he wanted it to. The former Spectre had taken the bait. Now, all the Collectors needed to do was set the hook.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_

_Told you I would post another chapter today._

_More stuff covered in the game. There's been a lot of it, I know, but I really wanted to put in Shepard emptying his gun into the Illusive Man's hologram. Also, it always bugged me how sole survivor Shepard seemed so neutral to the leader of Cerberus who tortured one of his men. I needed to change that._

_I don't know how many more Illusive Man chapters will be in this story. I thought I would hate writing him, but I find his character intriguing. But I don't want you guys to get bored with dialogue already in the game. I'll play it by ear._

_Thanks for reading and please review!_


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